


Catch Me If You Can

by afterthenovels



Series: Catch Me If You Can verse [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Catch Me If You Can verse, Crimes & Criminals, Drama, Fluff and Angst, M/M, white collar au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:49:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 116,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterthenovels/pseuds/afterthenovels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>In the end, catching Kurt Hummel is definitely not what Blaine expected.</em>
</p>
<p>Special Agent Blaine Anderson catches con-man and art thief extraordinaire Kurt Hummel twice, and on the second time they strike a deal. They're supposed to just solve white collar crimes together, but they might even end up solving each other in the process.</p>
<p>A White Collar AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In the end, catching Kurt Hummel is definitely not what Blaine expected.

To be honest, it’s not as glamorous or exciting as he thought it would be. He expected that there would be chases and escape plans and tricks, just like there have been before, just like there have been every other time Blaine has gotten this close. He expected to find the Songbird (as they call him at the FBI, because of the con-man’s ability to get almost everything he needs with words and because each and every one of his victims always mentions his voice, the clarity and the unusual pitch) in an expensive hotel room or at an art gallery, in the middle of another crime, catching him red-handed. Most of all he expected that a weight would be lifted from his shoulders the moment he slapped a pair of handcuffs on Kurt Hummel, like everything he has done to get here would suddenly feel worth-while, all the stake-outs and paper work and nights spent in the van.

Instead Kurt Hummel, the con-man he has been chasing for years, for so many years that he doesn’t even know how long it’s been anymore, the con-man who has basically helped Blaine build his fast-track career, is standing on the other side of the empty garage, hands raised, blinking his eyes in apparent surprise and wearing an outfit that is surprisingly tame on the Kurt Hummel standards.

Blaine knows everything there is to know about Hummel –- he knows that he doesn’t use violence, knows that he specializes in priceless paintings, sketches with beautiful clothes, and expensive Broadway memorabilia, knows that Hummel is always dressed to the nines and still somehow manages blend into the crowd. A pair of jeans and a light gray shirt is a surprisingly modest attire on Hummel, and as Blaine watches him he notices how Hummel’s hair is in obvious disarray, strands of it sticking in every direction and some of them falling over his forehead.

Hummel shakes his head as the rest of the agents surround him, guns pointing at him from every direction. “I guess Finn isn’t actually here then?” he sighs, his voice sounding tired.

Blaine steps forward. “Your brother?” he says. “No, unfortunately this is a set-up.”

It took them months, but they eventually found a connection to Kurt Hummel –- a step-brother, the only relative the Songbird seems to have. It was easy after that, spreading the rumor about the step-brother working in a garage near the marina and hoping the Songbird would show up. It was a long shot, but somehow it still worked. Family seems to have a strange hold over Kurt Hummel, and as much as FBI Agent Anderson is thankful for that right now, plain old Blaine Anderson actually envies Hummel’s strong family ties a little.

Hummel’s lips twitch into a smile as he turns to look into Blaine’s eyes and in a second the tired-looking young man vanishes, replaced by a grinning con-man who has been making a fool of the FBI for far too long.

“Agent Anderson,” he drawls. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I can see now that photographs don’t do you justice.”

Blaine rolls his eyes. Hummel grins and lowers his other arm, all the agents around him tightening their hold on their guns, but he just extends his hand towards Blaine, as if he’s expecting Blaine to shake it. Blaine can’t help it; he huffs out a laugh, taking Hummel’s hand and giving it a firm shake. Hummel’s grin widens even more at the gesture, and for a moment he looks like a child, like he isn’t actually almost the same age as Blaine but instead years and years younger, just a kid who got caught up in something way too big, and Blaine feels a sudden twinge of sadness. His superiors have always told him that he puts too much of his heart into his job, and Kurt Hummel certainly deserves everything he has coming –- trial and jail time and having to pay for his crimes –- but Blaine still feels bad for him. He can’t help it.

He takes the handcuffs from his pocket with his other hand and promptly clicks them around Hummel’s wrist. “Kurt Hummel,” he says in a monotone, doing his best to hide his true feelings, “you are under arrest.”

“So I figured,” Hummel answers with a wink.

 

\---

 

Later that same night, when New York City has already gone to bed and all the paper work on Kurt Hummel’s arrest is finally done, Blaine closes the door to his apartment behind him, dropping his keys into the small bowl by the door.

Perry gets up to greet him, wagging her tail in a way that reminds Blaine of the puppy she was just a short time ago and almost looking like she’s smiling. Blaine likes to think that Perry does actually smile every time he comes home, even though he knows that Labradors just happen to look like they’re always smiling. He bends down to scratch her ears and feels the day’s first genuine smile on his lips. The apartment is quiet and dark around him, and he stays in the hallway for a long time, not exactly looking forward to spending the night with yesterday’s leftovers and an old mystery book.

He usually feels better after a successful arrest, especially if the criminal is someone as complicated as the Songbird –- but tonight he feels tired, wrung-out and older than his years. He’s still one of the youngest agents at the Bureau, the one with the fast-track career and a good reputation, the one who everyone says is going somewhere, and today’s arrest should make him feel excited and accomplished. He knows how important the Songbird case has been, knows that catching Kurt Hummel is going to give him pride and glory, but those are not the reasons why he does what he does. He does it all because he believes in right and wrong, because he believes in keeping people safe, because he believes that at the end of the day, good always wins.

Why does he then feel like he has somehow failed Kurt Hummel?

Blaine sighs and straightens his back. Perry trots into the kitchen, her tail wagging lazily behind her, and after a moment Blaine flicks the lights on and follows her. The Songbird is a brilliant man, and after years of chasing him Blaine can admit that he is honestly fascinated by everything about him. Perhaps a part of him, that naive ghost of his high school years that believed in making art and helping people, feels like he could’ve helped Hummel, shown him another way of life without crimes and breaking the law. But how on earth could he have done that?

Blaine knows that things are as they should be. Kurt Hummel is going to prison for the crimes he committed, and that’s the end of it. And if Blaine still feels like he has lost the possibility of something great, he can work it out. There will always be more criminals to catch, more Kurt Hummels to pursue.

Even if none of them will ever be as fascinating as the Songbird.

 

\---

 

Blaine gets a birthday card from prison every year. He has no idea how Kurt Hummel knows his birthday or his address, but the cards arrive every year, waiting for him when he gets home from work. They are always original Kurt Hummel sketches –- the bulky lines of an orange jumpsuit, a picture of a dog that looks a surprisingly lot like Perry, a view from the prison court yard. Blaine snorts at every card when he sees them. He doesn’t think about Kurt Hummel otherwise, at least not much –- after the case was closed he has been busy with other criminals, trying to keep up with his new reputation and building his own team that works solely on white collar crimes.

Still, by the fourth year he’s already expecting a card, and after the miserable day he’s had (mortgage fraud cases are not the reason why he signed up for the FBI) he grins at the two cards waiting for him when he finally gets home. The first one is from Cooper, a generic card with generic greetings, but Blaine still appreciates the gesture. The other one, however, is a drawing of a bowtie with little handcuffs on it, and Blaine laughs out loud when he sees the message under the picture:

 _I bet you own at least a dozen bowties like this one, Agent Anderson._  
_Don’t try to tell me otherwise._

_Happy birthday!_

_xoxo Kurt_

Perry sniffs at the card and nudges Blaine’s thigh with her muzzle.

“I’m never getting rid of him, am I?” Blaine says to her. She tilts her head at him, and Blaine gives out a laugh. He doesn’t even want to get rid of Kurt Hummel. Not really, even if his colleagues would find his thoughts absurd. But they don’t have to know.

 

\---

 

In a few weeks it's been exactly four years since Blaine caught Kurt Hummel. He absent-mindedly knows that Hummel is getting free soon, hopefully to a life without crime, but Blaine’s thoughts have been occupied by his current case for weeks now, a complicated business of forged Renoirs that has already resulted in one person ending up in the hospital, and he hasn’t exactly had time to think about Kurt Hummel’s release from prison.

That is until Tina pulls him aside when they’re examining the latest forgery.

“What now?” he asks, distracted, his thoughts still focused on the painting.

Tina sighs. “It’s... Well.” She looks into Blaine’s eyes. “Kurt Hummel has escaped.”

Blaine startles, the forged Renoir disappearing from his mind in an instant. “W-what?”

“He escaped,” Tina repeats. She hands him the phone she has been holding. “The boss wants you on the case.”

Blaine blinks a few times, and then the words finally register in his head. Kurt Hummel has escaped. Just a few weeks before his release. It’s another mystery, another exciting chase, another chance to have the Songbird in his life, at least for a moment, and Blaine couldn’t stop himself from grinning even if he wanted to.

“Well then,” he says and takes the phone. “Let’s go catch him again.”


	2. Chapter 2

It’s different this time, but somehow still the same. There are no other agents, no pointing guns or fingers hovering over triggers, but the lost expression on Kurt Hummel’s face is familiar, as is the barely noticeable slump of his shoulders as he leans against the wall of the empty apartment, staring out of the window and blinking his eyes slowly.

Blaine stops in the doorway, just watching the scene for a moment. There’s light streaming in from the large window on the opposite wall, and the way the sunlight catches on Kurt Hummel’s hair reminds Blaine of the blurred photograph they used to have in the conference room at the office, the first one they ever got of the Songbird. It was taken by a surveillance camera, and in the picture Hummel is looking to the side, the lighting of some private art gallery making his face look even paler than it actually is, his eyes a startling shade of grey in the black and white photograph.

Blaine used to stare at the picture for a long time almost every day when he was pursuing the Songbird for the first time. He always waited for a moment when the conference room was empty and then just stood there, leaning against the large table and examining the lines and shadows of the Songbird’s face, trying to memorize them. He told himself it was for purely professional reasons, but Agent Evans caught him staring at the photograph once, startling him out of his thoughts with a cough.

“You okay there?” Sam asked, a weirdly understanding smile on his face. They were the same age, had started at the Bureau around the same time, and Sam was Blaine’s first choice when their boss asked him to put together a team for the Songbird case. They were close, Blaine supposed, but not in a way that would have made Blaine feel comfortable about sharing anything from his personal life.

“Yeah,” Blaine said, shaking his head. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Sam just scratched the back of his head and gestured towards the photograph. “He’s pretty handsome, you know. I mean... If you’re into, you know, men.”

Blaine gaped at him for a moment. “Sam, what are you-–”

“It’s okay, Blaine,” Sam said. “I’ll just leave you to it.”

And with that he was gone, closing the door and jogging down the stairs that lead to the conference room, leaving Blaine staring after him. He turned back to look at the photograph after a moment, a faint blush painting his cheeks as he allowed his eyes to follow the lines of the Songbird’s eyebrows once again.

The man leaning against the wall of this empty apartment still looks the same as he did all those years ago. His eyes are still startling, his long limbs still inexplicably graceful, and the lines and curves of his face still look like they have been sketched by one of the greatest masters of art. As Blaine looks at him in the silence of the afternoon sun, he suddenly realizes that no matter what he’s been telling himself for these past four years, Kurt Hummel still fascinates him in every single way. He’s not over their game of cat and mouse, not at all. The pure excitement he felt when he found out that Hummel had escaped should’ve already clued him in on that, but perhaps he needed to see the man with his own eyes before he was ready to admit anything to himself.

“You should’ve known that I would find you,” Blaine points out as he takes another step into the apartment.

Hummel doesn’t startle, doesn’t flinch in surprise or spin around to look at him; he just turns his head a little, a barely noticeable smile flashing across his face before it disappears again. “I was counting on it,” he answers. He rubs the back of his hand, frowning a little in a rare moment of honesty. “I was just... I was just hoping I would manage to see someone else before you found me.”

Blaine takes another step, taking in the clothes Hummel is wearing, a button-up shirt and a pair of black pants. There is a matching suit jacket folded on the floor, and Blaine smiles. “The prison guards thought you were a lawyer visiting one of his clients. They said that none of the prisoners walk with such purpose or... I think the word they used was ‘swagger’,” he muses.

Hummel turns around. “That was the idea.” He looks Blaine up and down. “You, however, are still wearing that same tie you were wearing the day you arrested me for the first time.”

Blaine glances down at his tie. “It’s vintage.”

“I know it is. It’s a nice tie.”

“But still not a bowtie,” Blaine counters.

Hummel looks up, surprised, and after a brief moment they share a smile. Blaine feels his heart thud loudly against his ribcage. There is something about Hummel’s smile, something in his eyes, that makes Blaine want to reach out and squeeze his arm, maybe even hug him for a moment, just to show some gesture of kindness even though he has no reason to.

“Are you carrying a gun?” he asks instead.

Hummel snorts, turning back to lean against the wall. “I don’t like guns, you know that.”

“Well, yes.” Blaine takes a few more steps until he’s standing almost next to Hummel. He hesitates for a moment, but then decides to just say it. “The person you were hoping to see here... It was your brother, right?”

Hummel freezes next to him, before he quickly schools his face into the familiar mask of indifference and obviously false content. Or perhaps it’s only obvious to Blaine.

“You found out he’s leaving the country and tried to see him one last time?” Blaine continues, gesturing at the empty apartment with his radiophone. “But you were too late.”

Hummel scoffs. “You know, it’s really not fair that you know so much about my brother when I don’t know practically anything about yours, Blaine.”

Blaine startles at the familiar first name, almost taking a step back before he stops himself. “I think it’s pretty fair, considering I’m an FBI agent. It’s my job to know certain things about the criminals I’m trying to find.”

“Criminals,” Hummel repeats in a low voice. There’s something bitter in his voice that Blaine can’t exactly put his finger on, and his heart thuds painfully once again, making him regret asking about Hummel’s brother.

“They’re going to give you another four years for this,” Blaine changes the subject, moving to stand in front of Hummel. Four more years, only because he had to break out of prison a few weeks before his release. It seems like such a waste. “Was it worth it?” he can’t help but ask.

Hummel looks away. “Of course it was.”

 _He’s the only one I have left_ goes unsaid, but for some reason Blaine thinks he can see it in Hummel’s eyes anyways. Maybe because he knows that feeling himself as well.

He lifts the radiophone in front of his mouth, hiding his feelings under his professionalism once again. “All clear. Suspect identified and unarmed.” He turns to look back at Hummel, opening his mouth to say something like _I’m sorry but this is how it has to go_ , but the con-man is staring at Blaine’s sleeve with his brows furrowed, clearly concentrated on something.

“What were you doing before you came here?” Hummel asks out of the blue, pointing at Blaine’s sleeve.

Blaine lifts his hand. There’s a small scratch of dried paint on the sleeve of his shirt, light red against the white of the fabric. He frowns a little. “Oh, that. It probably got there from this forged Renoir I was examining right before I found out you had escaped.”

“A Renoir?” Hummel repeats, looking up.

“Yes?” Blaine says. “Someone is forging his paintings and selling them as the real thing to unsuspecting people with a lot of money.”

“Are the forgeries any good?” Hummel asks, lifting his eyebrows in amusement.

Blaine shrugs. “Well, yes. We’ve tried everything, but we have practically no leads and... Why am I telling you this?”

“Because I know that shade of red paint,” Hummel answers. “There’s only one person who can mix a light red in that exact shade and who has the skills to forge a Renoir.”

Blaine blinks his eyes. He can hear the other agents making their way into the apartment, can practically feel Kurt Hummel slipping away from him again, but he can’t help but ask, “Who?”

“David Montgomery. He’s a professor specialized in Renoir at NYU.” Hummel looks over his shoulder towards the doorway. The sounds of the other agents are getting closer.

“We spoke to him,” Blaine says. “We spoke to him, and he said he had his own studio, but we didn’t even think he would actually... Are you sure?”

Hummel gives out a laugh. “He might have mixed me a sample of that exact same shade of red once upon a time. Allegedly.” He winks at Blaine. “Check it. And let me know if I was right.”

The agents rush into the apartment at that very moment, guns raised and crossing the room in a few quick steps. Kurt Hummel lifts his hands, letting one of the agents snap a pair of handcuffs on him, but he keeps his eyes on Blaine, an odd sense of excitement shining from them as Blaine stares back in disbelief.

“Let me know, okay?” Kurt repeats. The agents are already dragging him away from Blaine, and Blaine almost asks them to stop, almost asks them to leave Kurt Hummel alone just for a moment so they can continue their discussion, so Blaine can look into those startling eyes for a few seconds longer. But he knows he can’t ask for something like that, so he just watches as Kurt lets the agents lead him away, watches as Kurt looks over his shoulder one last time, his lips forming the words _let me know_ once more, and Blaine just nods back at him, right before he disappears through the doorway.

Blaine stands still, slowly averting his eyes from the doorway and looking down at his sleeve. The scratch of dried paint looks weirdly bright in the sunlight. How didn’t he realize it earlier? He spoke to Montgomery, he sat opposite him and talked about Renoir with him, briefly even wondered if Montgomery knew more than he was letting in on, but quickly dismissed the thought when nothing else seemed to be pointing in his direction. But now...

Blaine is still staring at the paint when he fishes out his phone from his pocket and presses speed dial two. Sam answers just after a few rings, immediately asking if he found the Songbird already.

“Sam,” Blaine says, ignoring Sam’s question. “Are you still at the Bureau with that Renoir forgery? Could you... Could you do me favour and get a sample of that pink paint on the woman’s dress in the painting?”

“Um, sure.” Sam sounds confused. “Any particular reason why?”

“I just...” Blaine hesitates. “Let’s just say I got a tip from a reliable source and promised I would check it.”

Only a few hours later Blaine watches as Sam arrests David Montgomery for forgery, reading him his rights and escorting him to the police car waiting outside, and suddenly the puzzle pieces fall into place. Blaine knows what he has to do. He knows what he can do for Kurt Hummel.

And, if he’s being completely honest, for himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt Hummel is impeccable suits, hairstyles that defy gravity and an endless collection of bowties, ties, and scarves. He is brilliant forgeries, missing sketches, out-of-the-box escape plans and suave movements that make both men and women stare after him like they are in a daze. He is an enchanting voice, a way with words that only a few people possess and an ability to get what he wants by charming people and making them see what they want to see. He is phone calls from international numbers, postcards from prison, cookies on Blaine’s desk before Christmas, and the knowledge that Blaine isn't the only one actually enjoying the chase. He is endless clues, endless piles of paperwork, endless confused looks from other agents, endless false alarms and touch-and-go situations, endless nights Blaine has spent at the office, almost falling asleep at his desk –- endless moments of pure fascination and admiration and thoughts of what if. Of wondering what Kurt Hummel could’ve been if he hadn’t chosen the life of crime. Of trying to figure out why Blaine cares so much about this one con-man when there are dozens almost like him just waiting to be caught or already serving their time in prison.

But that’s the one thing Kurt Hummel is as well. He is unique. Somehow he is different from all the others.

Blaine’s fingers are tapping a rhythm against the wooden surface of the visiting room table as he waits for Kurt to appear. There is a file full of papers on the table next to his elbow, all of them signed by his superiors, some of them a little begrudgingly, but everything is still taken care of. All that’s left is for Blaine to present his idea to Kurt and see what he thinks about it. If he thinks anything about it.

(And when exactly did Kurt Hummel become just Kurt in his head, instead of Hummel? When did they move to first name basis?)

The door to the room opens, and Kurt shuffles in, followed by one of the guards. Kurt stops just two steps after the doorway, staring at Blaine in confusion, and as Blaine lifts his gaze and looks back at him, he instantly realizes it: Kurt Hummel is definitely not orange jumpsuits and the defeated slump in his shoulders. He isn’t dark circles around his eyes or strands of hair hanging over his forehead as if they’ve given up. Or, at least he shouldn’t be. Blaine feels the familiar thud of his heart again, and for a brief moment he wonders if he’s getting in too deep, if he has thought this whole thing through after all.

“Agent Anderson,” Kurt says, lifting one of his eyebrows. “What are you doing here?”

Blaine gestures at the seat opposite him. “You were right.”

Kurt sits down and rests his hands in his lap. “I’m usually right about a lot of things, but what was it this time?” Then, suddenly, his eyebrows rise higher and his eyes widen. “Wait. Wait... I was right about Montgomery?”

Blaine can feel the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile. “Yes.”

“Hah!” Kurt leans victoriously back in his chair, jutting his chin out with a grin, and Blaine’s own smile widens at the sight of him practically preening. There is a sudden spark in Kurt’s eyes, excitement and accomplishment shining brightly from his face, the tiredness gone and forgotten for a moment. “I knew it!” he continues. “I _knew_ it. Well, he’s certainly getting what he deserves. He was always such a pompous snob.”

Blaine ducks his head, trying to hide his amusement. This is the Kurt Hummel he remembers from four years ago, the one who called him every once in a while to tease him or just “to say hi to the nice little agent who’s trying to catch me –- yes, agent Anderson, that was a pun about your height”. It’s weird how much Blaine has missed this, without even realizing it himself.

Kurt sobers and lowers his gaze, studying Blaine for a moment. “You came all the way here just to tell me that I was right? Wow. What a way to make a guy feel special, Anderson,” he jokes, winking at Blaine.

Blaine coughs and takes the file from the table. “That’s not the only reason I came here. I have a... Hum.” He hesitates. This is it. The last moment to back out, to go back to his office and pretend that Kurt Hummel never existed. To stop the single most impulsive thing he’s ever done before it even happens. “I have a proposition for you.”

“A proposition?” Kurt repeats, tilting his head with a grin. “My, this is getting interesting.”

Blaine rolls his eyes. He opens the file, takes out the first paper, a printed photograph, and lays it on the table in front of Kurt. Kurt raises his eyebrows at Blaine first, but then he looks down at the photograph, his face showing no reaction as he takes it in.

“It’s an ankle monitor,” Blaine explains, a little unnerved by Kurt’s silence. “Or, well, a GPS tracking anklet is the official name, I suppose. Never been hacked, so it’s pretty reliable if you want to know where someone is.”

Kurt leans back again. “As fascinating as this is, I don’t really understand why you’re telling it to me.”

“Because if you accept my proposition, you’ll be wearing one of those,” Blaine says, continuing before Kurt has the chance to interrupt. “The way you instantly recognized who the Renoir forger was... It was impressive. I was impressed. And it got me thinking that I... I mean, my team, the White Collar Division, could use someone like you as a criminal informant. We’re good, but understandably we can’t know everything about the way the criminal underworld works-–”

“But I do?” Kurt interrupts, lifting one of his eyebrows again.

“Yes.” Blaine takes the next paper from the file, putting it over the first one. “You could be released into my custody and serve out the remainder of your sentence in that way -– by helping us catch others like you. It’s been done before, and it’s been pretty successful.”

“You want me to become the next Frank Abagnale Jr.?” Kurt asks, not even looking at the papers. Blaine can’t decipher anything from his expression; it’s just a mask, the same he saw at the empty apartment when he caught Kurt for the second time, but this time it’s even thicker.

“Well,” Blaine hesitates. “Sort of. If you want to.”

Kurt tilts his head, looking at Blaine as if he’s trying to read him. It’s quiet for several long moments, both of them just looking at each other, the papers lying forgotten on the table. Blaine can hear the distant sounds of the prison, heavy footsteps and the clanging of the security doors, and he absent-mindedly wonders how many of the footsteps belong to criminals he himself has put behind bars.

“Why?” Kurt asks finally, crossing his arms.

“Why what?”

“Why me,” Kurt clarifies. “Why are you proposing this to me? Why do you care whether I serve my sentence in prison or out there with your division?”

_Because no one else fascinates me like you do. Because I think you could be something great, something amazing, if you just put your talent into something other than committing crimes. Because I miss trying to figure out what you’re going to do next. Because I miss you. Because you broke out of prison a few weeks before your release to see your brother one last time when my own brother barely manages to send me a birthday card every year. Because I like you, in a very weird and unprofessional way, and I don’t know what else to do about it._

“Because I think you deserve a chance,” Blaine says simply, shrugging his shoulders. “And I think you might actually enjoy it, if your reaction to Montgomery’s arrest is any indication.”

“That’s all? You think I deserve a chance?” Kurt repeats. His eyes are piercing, more blue than Blaine has ever seen them before, and if this was high school Blaine would be fidgeting by now, running his hands through his hair or crossing his arms in an expression of unease. But he has years of training now, years of interrogations and difficult situations helping him keep his hands still and his face impassive.

“I think you do,” he says. “I think... I think you could really help us. Help other people.”

Kurt purses his lips and averts his gaze. “You have a lot of faith in a common criminal, Anderson.”

“It’s not exactly faith,” Blaine corrects, allowing himself to smile a little. “Just a... really strong hunch. And I don’t usually ignore my hunches. They helped me catch you, after all. On both times, I might add.”

Kurt huffs out a laugh.

“Look,” Blaine continues. “Think about it. Figure out what you want to do. You don’t have to accept this proposition, but I just hope you think about it... Kurt.”

Kurt’s eyes turn back to Blaine in an instant, wide and surprised. Blaine gets up slowly, leaning his hands on the table as he looks into Kurt’s eyes. There’s a hint of vulnerability in Kurt’s gaze, barely noticeable but still obvious to Blaine, and he hates himself a little for putting it there –- but at least he now knows that they’re both being somewhat honest with each other. Complete honesty is probably never going to happen, but Blaine still put himself on the line for Kurt Hummel, for a hunch he had, for feelings that refused to go away when they’d resurfaced after four years. It’s Kurt’s turn now, to choose whether he wants to put himself on the line as well.

“Let me know, okay?” Blaine says, echoing Kurt’s previous parting words. He pushes the papers towards Kurt on the table and then straightens his back, walking out of the bare visiting room.

He doesn’t look back, doesn’t glance over his shoulder at Kurt one last time. He refuses to believe that this is the last time they’ll see each other.

 

\---

 

Two days later Blaine gets a call from prison. It’s a brief call, just a few exchanged words, a few sentences over the phone, but when Blaine eventually puts the phone down his heart is hammering against his chest in an almost painful way. He doesn’t quite know if it’s from pure professional excitement or from something else, something much deeper and more complicated.

Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. He took a chance with Kurt Hummel, and now Kurt Hummel has decided to take the same chance as well -– and for some reason that feels a lot better than catching the Songbird for the first time. Or for the second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know that in White Collar Neal was the one who suggested the deal, but I felt that Blaine suggesting it worked better in this 'verse.


	4. Chapter 4

“This is not the place the FBI got for you,” Blaine points out, not even bothering to say hello when Kurt opens the door for him. He just spent an hour and a half explaining to his supervisors why Kurt Hummel isn’t at the motel he is supposed to be staying at and how Kurt has apparently managed to find a new place in just a few hours -– and _yes, boss, that new place is within his three-mile radius, he’s not technically breaking any rules_.

Blaine has a feeling he’ll be using the word technically a lot from now on.

“I know,” Kurt says with a grin and gestures for Blaine to come in. “Did you really think I would stay at that sleazy motel? Agent Anderson, it’s like you don’t know me at all.” He clucks his tongue in disappointment.

Blaine takes a deep, calming breath and steps in. It’s a nice apartment, that’s the first thing he notices –- admittedly much nicer than the dingy motel room he had left Kurt at just this morning, but that was the best the Bureau could afford. This apartment, however, is a spacious loft with calm white walls and huge windows that show a view of the New York City skyline, and the furniture looks expensive and antique instead of the plain old IKEA things Blaine has at his own place.

“And don’t worry, the rent is just as much as it was at that motel,” Kurt assures him, walking further into the apartment and starting to organize the clothes in the large closet. “Elle, the woman who owns this place, promised me a discount when she heard about my situation. Apparently all the other candidates for a new tenant weren’t up to her standards.”

“Your situation?” Blaine repeats. “So you told her you’re a criminal informant for the FBI and she gave you a discount?”

Kurt shrugs. “I’ve succeeded in stranger things. Besides, she noticed the anklet.”

Blaine’s eyes instinctively drop down to the black object around Kurt’s left ankle. It looks bulky and clumsy, even though Blaine has done his research and knows that wearing it is not actually that unpleasant. “How is it?”

Kurt glances at the anklet as well. “Oh, this? It takes some getting used to, but I’ll just think of it as an accessory and it’ll be fine.” He hangs an expensive-looking suit inside the closet, turning his back to Blaine.

Blaine drags his fingers through his hair, mindful of the gel. He suddenly feels a little overwhelmed. Kurt looks so at home in this apartment, like all those things with his brother didn’t even happen, like he hasn’t spent the last few weeks in prison, looking so weary and defeated that Blaine doesn’t think he’ll ever forget it. He did see the old Kurt Hummel when they were talking in the visiting room, but before that and even momentarily during it he could see that the usual confidence and charm were somehow diminished. But now it’s all back in full force, blinding and enchanting like it used to be.

It’s somehow so weird and new to be in the same space with Kurt for such a long time, talking to him and watching him hang clothes in his new closet. It’s not cat and mouse anymore, but more like two cats trying to catch other mice, and it’s going to take some getting used to, at least for Blaine. Even if he was the one who came up with the deal in the first place.

(The last time they spoke like this was several years ago, when Blaine was still trying to catch Kurt. It was late one night when he was still at the office, going over some evidence, and his phone ringing broke the train of his thought. Kurt obviously called from an unknown number, transmitted through several different servers and impossible to trace, but perhaps because of the late hour they didn’t talk much about the chase or Kurt’s alleged crimes. Instead they chatted on the phone for hours about the new exhibition at the MoMA, about the best restaurants in New York, about the new trends in men’s fashion, about life in general. It was probably one of the most bizarre phone calls Blaine has ever gotten, but for some reason that also made it one of the best.)

“Where did you get the clothes?” he asks suddenly. The shirt Kurt is holding looks way too expensive for someone who just got out of prison.

“Oh, I have my ways,” Kurt says and winks.

Blaine sighs. “You do realize that if you commit another crime I’ll have to-–”

“I didn’t steal them,” Kurt interrupts him, turning around to look at Blaine with his eyes wide open. “I’ve had them since before I went to prison for the first time. I just had them stored in a secure location.”

“Oh.” Blaine relaxes his shoulders and glances at his watch. He needs to get back to the office soon. He promised Sam to come back as soon as he made sure that Kurt was where he said he would be, and the lunch hour traffic will probably slow him down anyway.

Kurt is still looking at him, his eyes curious and his head tilted. “You know, Agent Anderson, this is probably the first time we’ve spent this much time in the same space without you trying to slap a pair of handcuffs on me.” His eyes light up. “Do you want to go get lunch? I noticed this lovely bistro down the street and thought I’d try it out.”

Blaine turns to look at Kurt, surprised and even more overwhelmed than he was before. “Oh. Um,” he stammers, glancing at his watch again. A part of him, the part he usually manages to keep silent, is screaming at him to say yes, to spend more time with Kurt, to make the sudden weirdness natural and comfortable -– but another part of him knows that he has work to do, witnesses to interview and paperwork to be signed.

For the umpteenth time he wonders if he actually knows what he’s doing with Kurt Hummel.

“I have to get back to the office,” he says lamely. “I just came by to give you the paperwork of your... Of our first case.” He hands the file he has been holding to Kurt, who takes it with the same curious look in his eyes. “My superiors said that you can spend the first day settling in, so I’ll meet you here first thing tomorrow morning to give you ride to the office. Is that okay?”

“Sure.” Kurt starts thumbing through the file, not showing any reaction to Blaine’s refusal. The case should be right up Kurt’s alley, a jewelry theft in one of the more prestigious stores in Manhattan, and he can see Kurt flicking through the evidence photos with obvious interest.

“Good. I just... I wanted to make sure you’re still here,” Blaine suddenly adds, for no apparent reason.

Kurt lifts his head and shrugs his shoulders. “Where else would I go?”

Blaine looks around the spotless apartment, at the light streaming in from the window, the painting on the wall that seems to depict some picturesque town in the Mediterranean, the expensive clothes strewn over the immaculate bed. Kurt is basically free, even if he has the anklet –- if someone could hack into the GPS tracker and fool it, it’d be Kurt Hummel –- and a part of Blaine is already dreading the inevitable, of coming to pick up Kurt one morning and finding the apartment empty. He isn’t stupid; he knows that this work release must probably feel as if the FBI is dangling complete freedom right under Kurt’s nose, giving him glimpses and promises of it, enchanting and alluring. And since Kurt is his responsibility, his CI, it’s Blaine’s job to make sure Kurt stays.

“Anywhere, I suppose,” he answers truthfully.

Kurt purses his lips in thought. “But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Anywhere is almost the same as...” He pauses, blinking his eyes, and then his face melts into a confident grin. “Never mind. Are you sure I can’t interest you in some lunch avec Kurt Hummel, criminal informant extraordinaire?” He shimmies his shoulder a little.

Blaine gives a small smile. “No, sorry. I promised Agent Evans I’d get back to the office as soon as possible to help him with a few witness interviews.”

“Fine. I’ll start reading this then,” Kurt says, waving the case file. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Blaine repeats, taking a step towards the door.

“Bye-–” Kurt hesitates for a short moment, barely noticeable, before he straightens his back and smiles, “–- Blaine.”

Blaine blinks and then gives a wave before opening the door and leaving the apartment. “Bye, Kurt.”

 

\---

 

One of the witnesses turns out to be extremely useful, and Blaine spends the rest of the day connecting the dots with Sam and Tina, casing through previous reports and finding a few possible suspects. It’s good progress, and it means they don’t have to start the day with tedious paperwork tomorrow. Blaine can pick up Kurt on his way to interviewing the first suspect and let Kurt use his expertise on the field right from the start. That should be more exciting to Kurt than just spending time at the office and waiting for the next coffee break.

Blaine practically flops into his bed when he gets home that evening, barely managing to change into his pajamas with his eyes slipping shut every few seconds. Perry is already snoring gently on the floor next to his bed when he finally crawls under the covers with a tired smile on his face, and the familiar rumble lulls Blaine into a deep and peaceful sleep almost immediately.

Until his dreams are interrupted by the sound of the doorbell at half past five in the morning.

“W-what?” Blaine groans, lifting his head from the pillow. Perry is already up and standing next to Blaine’s bed, waving her tail at him and looking excited to be up at this ungodly hour. Her panting mouth is right next to Blaine’s face, and he groans again at the smell of his dog’s morning breath.

The doorbell rings the second time, and Blaine pushes the covers away, rubbing his eyes. He manages to slide out of bed, stretching his shoulders with a yawn once he’s up and standing, but his movement is halted by another ring at the door. Perry seems satisfied now that Blaine is up, and she trots out of the bedroom towards the hall, her tail still wagging behind her.

Blaine sighs and follows her, patting his unruly curls with his hands and trying to look more awake. He has no idea who would be at his door at this hour, but experience has taught him that everything that happens this early usually has something to do with his work. It’s probably either Sam or Tina with a new lead or something else equally urgent -– although they would usually just call him instead of coming to see him personally...

The doorbell rings one last time just as Blaine reaches the front door, and he twists the door open, barely suppressing a yawn.

“Morning!” Kurt exclaims when he sees Blaine, waving two take-away cups of coffee in his hands.

Blaine blinks, rubs his eyes one more time, and when Kurt’s cheery smile doesn’t disappear, he sighs. “It’s half past five. What are you doing here?”

“I’m usually awake at this hour,” Kurt explains with a shrug. “Anyway –- about an hour ago, as I was doing my moisturizing routine, I was going through the case file you gave me, and I think I noticed something in the display stand where the stolen jewels were.”

“If by something you mean that small button near the glass’s edge, we checked it already. It’s nothing,” Blaine yawns, rubbing his eyes once more.

Kurt’s face falls a little. “Oh. I sometimes forget that you’re actually pretty clever as well.” Then he perks up again, bouncing a little on his feet. “But that’s not the only things I noticed and-– well well well, who are you?”

Blaine blinks at the sudden change in Kurt’s tone, and when he follows Kurt’s line of vision he sees that Perry has nudged her head between the door and Blaine’s legs and is currently sniffing at Kurt’s pants, her tail still wagging.

“Is this Perry?” Kurt asks with a gentle smile, crouching down and putting one of the coffee cups on the floor so he can scratch Perry behind her ears. “Oh, she’s adorable.”

“How do you-–” Blaine starts and then thinks better of it. He should be used to Kurt Hummel knowing details about Blaine’s own life by now. “Do you want to come in?” he asks instead, grabbing Perry’s collar and opening the door a little more.

Kurt looks up, his hand still petting Perry’s head. “Oh? Sure.” He picks up the coffee cup and gives it to Blaine. “This one’s for you. I assumed that I should have some sort of a peace offering in case you were not a morning person.” He looks Blaine up and down as he closes the door behind him. “I've never seen your hair so curly.”

Blaine blushes. “There’s a reason for that,” he mumbles and gestures for Kurt to follow him to the living room, trying not to feel self-conscious about his hair. Perry, however, seems to be completely enamored with Kurt by now, judging by the way she keeps smiling her Labrador smile and butting her muzzle against Kurt’s thighs.

Kurt looks around the apartment, obviously curious, as he unwinds the light blue scarf around his neck. “You have a nice apartment. Very homey.”

Blaine smiles his thanks as he sits down in the armchair and takes a sip of the coffee. It’s a medium drip with too much sugar and a sprinkle of cinnamon, just the way he likes it, and he looks up at Kurt in surprise. “You know my coffee order?” he asks.

Kurt shrugs, sitting down opposite Blaine. “Of course I do. You’re not the only one who has done his research, Blaine.”

Blaine watches as Perry nudges Kurt’s hand, asking for some more attention, and Kurt immediately smiles down at her and starts scratching her short fur. It’s strange, having Kurt Hummel in his apartment, playing with his dog and bringing him a cup of coffee, as if this is something that happens every day. Blaine is definitely underdressed in his pajamas next to Kurt’s stylish and fitting clothes, and he’s still trying to wrap his sleepy mind around everything, but to his surprise he notices that he doesn’t mind it all that much.

“I would’ve come to pick you up in a few hours,” he says.

“Oh, sorry.” Kurt looks up and scrunches his nose a little. “I realized last night that your apartment is within my three-mile radius, and when I was going through the case file this morning I got so excited that I came here without giving it another thought.” He stops petting Perry, his eyes widening. “I can go away, if this is a bad time. I mean, you are basically my boss and you probably don’t want me just waltzing into your apartment like this, especially at this early in the morning and...”

Blaine leans back in the chair and shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. You said you found something else in the display stand?” he prompts.

Kurt closes his mouth, and then his face breaks into a wide, toothy grin, something Blaine can’t remember seeing ever before. The criminal he chased for years is suddenly sitting on his sofa, fishing out the case file from his messenger bag (Blaine can see several post-it notes peeking from the file, full of Kurt’s neat hand-writing) and looking like he’s always been there, like he somehow belongs there with his impeccable clothes and excited gestures -– and for the first time Blaine realizes that he might have actually made the right choice with this partnership.

Maybe he doesn't have to work so hard to make Kurt Hummel stay after all.


	5. Chapter 5

Tina knocks on the open door before peeking her head into Blaine’s office. “Can I come in?”

Blaine looks up from the computer screen, blinking his eyes as if it takes him a moment to be completely back in the present, back in his own office with its large window and brown walls. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

His mind is still whirring over the jewel thief’s arrest, even though it was hours ago. Their first case with Kurt was solved in record time, and it already seems that bouncing off ideas with Kurt works better for Blaine than it does for him with anyone else. Somehow, despite their differences, they _get_ each other. Kurt throws him the ball and he throws it right back, observations leading to discoveries, and it makes Blaine feel more alive than he ever has before. Sure, he has always liked his job, has always got a certain kick from the thrill of the chase, from the intellectual level present in most white collar crimes, from leading his own team -– but with Kurt it’s like electricity coursing through his veins, like he’s running forward with no way to stop. With no need to stop.

The FBI has always been about rules for Blaine, about the law, about doing things by the book, about what’s illegal and what’s not. Working with Kurt, however, seems to mean bending the rules or at least realizing that Kurt will want to bend them (“Just lie to her about who you are.” –- “I can’t lie to her about who I am if I’m questioning her about the theft, Kurt.” –- “Fine, then I’ll question her.” -– “ _What_?”). Kurt dances through it all, playing by his own unique rules, already expecting Blaine to be there when he goes too far, and it’s... exhilarating.

“What is it?” Blaine asks when Tina shuts the door behind her.

“Oh, nothing really, I just...” Tina glances back at the lower level of the office space where all the other agents have their desks a few steps down from Blaine’s own office, the conference room and the interrogation room. “He’s doing well, isn’t he?”

Blaine follows Tina’s line of sight and notices Kurt leaning against his desk near the doors, explaining something to Sam and a few of the probationary agents that have gathered around him. Kurt was so surprised at getting his own desk when they arrived at the office earlier today, practically stroking the surface of the desk in quiet reverence when Blaine pointed it out to him. Now his gestures are confident and calculated instead, accentuating the right parts of the story, and as Blaine watches he seems to deliver the punch line of the story, several of the probies suddenly chuckling or rolling their eyes.

“He is,” Blaine says with a smile. He looks back at Tina. “What do you think?”

“Me?” Tina brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and thinks for a while. “I... I think he’s doing alright. I mean obviously he’s an asset, it’s not like you would’ve suggested the deal to him if he wasn’t-–”

Blaine looks away, swallowing roughly. If only she knew all the reasons he had...

“–-and he seems to enjoy this side of the things as well, but...” Tina stops, biting her lower lip.

“But what?” Blaine asks, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don’t know if he’s really enjoying this or if he’s just putting on a show,” Tina admits, not meeting Blaine’s eyes. “I can’t read him.”

Blaine’s arms loosen, falling to his lap. “You can’t read him? But he’s...” His sentence trails off and he gestures towards Kurt, not really knowing the right word to describe him.

(The defeated slump in Kurt’s shoulders when Blaine found him the second time, the brief glimpses of vulnerability Blaine has seen. And then the accomplished grin when Kurt found out that he was right about Montgomery, the light in his eyes when he asked if Blaine would like to get lunch with him, the way he was practically bouncing on Blaine’s doorstep this morning, the little excited kick his feet did under the conference room table when he and Blaine made the last connection about the case over take-out lunch... All those gestures and expressions just brimming with genuine feelings, so visible and readable to Blaine –- and Tina says she can’t read Kurt?)

“Look, Blaine,” Tina says, taking a step towards him. “I’m not saying that you’re wrong or that you made the wrong choice with this deal. It’s obvious that he helps us solve cases, but I just...” She finally looks up, meeting Blaine’s confused gaze. “He’s still a con-man, Blaine, and you tend to make impulsive decisions every now and then. I just want you to be careful.”

Blaine gapes at her, even more confused than he was before. She gives a small smile and then turns her back on him, walking to the door and grabbing the handle.

“I am being careful, Tina,” Blaine calls out after her.

Tina stops and glances at him over her shoulder. “Are you?” she asks, walking out of the office and closing the door behind her.

 

\---

 

A few hours later, Tina’s words still echoing in his mind, Blaine shuts down his computer, shrugs on his coat and clicks off the lights in his office. The white collar unit’s floor has already quieted down, and most of the probies and younger agents headed home at least an hour ago. Blaine jogs down the few stairs to the lower level, straightening his tie and briefly patting his hair with his hand. Tina gives him another small smile as he passes her desk, and he just nods back at her, not knowing what to say.

Kurt is still sitting at his own desk, his back hunched over a pile of papers and his right hand tapping a pen against the knuckles of his left hand in a slow rhythm. He looks up when Blaine stops in front of his desk, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a grin.

“All done for the day?” he asks.

“Yes.” Blaine can feel Tina’s eyes on him from the other side of the room. “I was wondering if you needed a ride home?”

Kurt blinks, surprised. “Oh. Oh, it’s fine, I can walk. Or take the subway.”

“It’s no bother, Kurt, it's on my way home.”

Kurt purses his lips, contemplating for a while. “Alright then,” he agrees eventually. “Let me just put these away?”

“Sure.” Blaine checks his pockets for his keys, phone and wallet as Kurt starts arranging the papers on his desk, putting them in neat piles and making sure they’re all in the right order. Blaine watches him, trying not to stare too much, still aware of the way Tina keeps glancing at them, of the words _be careful_ circling around inside his head.

(But what does it mean to be careful around Kurt Hummel?)

Sam walks by them, clapping Blaine’s shoulder on his way. “See you tomorrow, Blaine.” He stops and looks at Kurt. “You too, Kurt.”

Kurt lifts his head. “Oh, yeah, you too, Agent Evans. Have a nice evening.”

Sam grins and reaches over the desk to give Kurt’s shoulder a small shove. “It’s Sam. You’re part of the team now, Hummel.”

Kurt’s shoulders tense up at the touch at first, but then they relax, slumping down. “Thanks, Sam,” he says, giving him a smile.

“Ready to go?” Blaine asks, trying to damp down the smile that Sam’s reaction brought out. It’s nice to know that at least one member of his team seems to be completely okay with Kurt.

Kurt arranges the last papers, looks at his desk for a moment and then nods. “Yes, ready.” He grabs his own coat and straightens the dark blue bowtie he’s wearing today, Blaine’s eyes unconsciously following the movement before he shakes himself out of it and opens the door for Kurt.

They’re already in Blaine’s car, driving towards Kurt’s apartment, when Kurt brings it up.

“It’s a shame you don’t wear bowties at work,” he says from the passenger seat, smoothing his finger over his own bowtie again, visible between the lapels of his coat. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, your ties are very nice, but I bet you’d look good in a bowtie.”

Blaine glances at Kurt but returns his eyes quickly back to the road, confused by the sudden conversation starter after the quiet that fell between them when they left the office. “They fit me alright,” he says, shrugging a little.

Kurt leans back in his seat. “They probably attract the attention of the opposite sex as well?” he asks, his voice purposefully nonchalant.

Blaine freezes, his fingers gripping the steering wheel a little more tightly. “Um.” He swallows, staring right ahead. “I wouldn’t know about that,” he manages to say.

“Oh?” Blaine can see from the corner of his eye how Kurt straightens his back and stares at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m...” He pauses. Does he really have to come out to his new CI? He thought that his sexuality was pretty much common knowledge by now –- everyone at the office knows it, or even if they don’t it’s not really their business anyway, and Kurt himself has shown time and time again that he knows more about Blaine’s personal life than Blaine ever expected. Kurt, who has charmed both men and women during his own cons.

“I’m gay,” Blaine says eventually, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Oh.” Kurt shifts in his seat. “So the FBI doesn’t have a policy-–”

“That was the military a few years ago,” Blaine interrupts, a little harshly. “We don’t ask, we don’t care.”

“Sorry,” Kurt says in a low voice.

Blaine sighs, loosening his grip on the steering wheel. “No, it’s-– it’s alright. I just assumed that you knew already. You knew about Perry and about everything else even though we’ve never really talked about our personal lives, so I just...”

He thinks about some of the reactions he’s had to face; a few of his older and more conservative superiors questioning his skills when they found out about his sexuality, the disgusted looks he got from one of the probies who ended up quitting the white collar unit after a few weeks. His team and most of his bosses have always had his back, but somehow those bad memories still stay with him, as a reminder that the world isn’t as right and fair as Blaine hopes it to be.

“I am too,” Kurt says after Blaine has trailed off. “Gay, I mean.”

“Oh.” There’s a weird sense of quiet understanding in Kurt’s voice, and after a moment Blaine blinks, slowing to a red light. “Even though you charm-–”

“Even though I charm women as well, yes,” Kurt finishes for him, and the amused grin is back in his voice, making Blaine relax against his seat. “I charm anyone I have to, even if I personally prefer men.”

Blaine remembers Tina’s words and swallows. “I guess that’s a requirement in your line of work.”

“Yes,” Kurt admits. “But I have a new line of work now. Right?”

Blaine looks over at Kurt with a smile, their eyes meeting over the center console. He can be careful, can keep himself in check and remember that Kurt conned a lot of people -– but perhaps he doesn’t have to be too careful. Kurt still seems to get him, seems to genuinely enjoy this new partnership they have, solving cases and catching other criminals. And Blaine can read him, even if Tina can’t; he can read the lines and barely noticeable reactions on Kurt’s face, can construct their meaning. Even if he tries to resist his personal impulses most of the time, he has never ignored his professional instincts, and he’s not going to start now.

“Right,” he repeats. The light changes from red to green, and he presses the accelerator until the car starts moving again.

Kurt hums. “You know, I had a hunch that you were gay.”

Blaine laughs. “No, you didn’t,” he counters. “You were talking about attracting the opposite sex less than five minutes ago.”

“I was just making sure.” Kurt sniffs, a little indignant. “Making sure about my hunch.”

“Sure,” Blaine says, grinning. He glances at Kurt, seeing that he’s smiling as well, his posture relaxed in the car’s dim lighting. “You know, I had the same hunch about you as well,” he confesses.

“I would’ve been disappointed if you hadn’t,” Kurt says.

“What?” Blaine asks, frowning. “Why?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Kurt waves his hand in the air and turns to look out of the window, a secretive smile lingering on his lips. “Nothing at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up - an interlude from Kurt's POV! Woot-woot~


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude from Kurt's POV.

Kurt is about to close the car door behind himself when Blaine calls out, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Blaine’s voice sounds almost tentative, an odd sense of hope making his sentence end as if it’s a question, and Kurt freezes for a moment before he turns around to look at Blaine. It’s been a long time since someone hoped something from Kurt, something that didn’t have anything to do with what he could steal or who he could con. Some painful part of Kurt reminds him that Blaine could only be hoping for his skills as well, for the way he can act as an asset to the FBI, and that’s all –- but then he meets Blaine’s eyes and forces that stupid painful part to shut its ugly mouth.

Because that’s the thing about Special Agent Blaine Anderson: he’s earnest, almost painfully so, and Kurt just can’t see him using people like that, only seeing what they can do and not who they are.

(Or perhaps that’s what Kurt himself is hoping for, the one thing he wishes was true when it comes to all the things he knows about Blaine by now.)

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeats, flashing a grin. “Bright and early.”

Blaine laughs. “Maybe not as early as today, okay?”

“No promises,” Kurt says, pushing his hands to his pockets and rocking on his feet.

Blaine’s smile softens. “Today was... fun. I think I’m going to enjoy working with you, Kurt.”

He doesn’t say _you did well_ or _good job helping us catch the thief_ or _you really are an asset to us_ , all of them things he’s probably thinking about as well, and Kurt ignores the way his treacherous heart skips a beat at Blaine’s choice of words.

“Thanks,” he says. “I think I’m going to enjoy working with you as well.”

Blaine gives out a laugh. “I hope so, or else this will get really awkward really fast.”

“Goodnight, Blaine,” Kurt sing-songs in reply and shuts the door with a slam. Through the car window he sees Blaine shake his head with a smile before he starts the car again and steers it away from the curb, joining the slow traffic and following all the regulations like the good man he is.

Kurt keeps the grin on his face for as long as he can see Blaine’s car, but the moment it disappears behind a corner he turns his back on the street and sighs, his shoulders slumping down immediately. Playing the old role around Blaine seems more difficult these days when they can see each other face to face –- it’s as if his exterior is fraying around the edges, slowly breaking apart like an old painting that has suddenly been exposed to all the elements.

It was easy at first, when he found out the FBI had assigned a certain Agent Anderson on his case, to be the con-man he has been for years, to hide behind teasing remarks and a flashing smile. He found out everything he could about this Anderson guy, researched him to know what he was up against, and on the superficial level it was almost boring: graduated with good grades, been with the FBI for years, has a dog, lives alone, blah blah blah blah. Picture perfect FBI agent with average success.

But then Kurt found a picture of Agent Anderson, a photograph where Blaine is talking with a few other agents near a crime scene, his hands crossed over his chest and his hair gelled within an inch of its life. He was wearing a fitting suit, not necessarily expensive but at least well-tailored, and a tie that caught Kurt’s attention.

What kind of a regularly dull FBI agent wears an authentic vintage tie around his neck?

Then again, Blaine wasn’t exactly your average FBI agent after all. He somehow managed to thwart Kurt’s plan to rob a private gallery in New York, and Kurt realized he had underestimated Agent Anderson. After that it was a case of cat and mouse, phone calls and surprisingly interesting conversations late at night when Kurt was sipping wine after a heist and Blaine was trying to solve that same heist at his office. And Blaine wasn’t boring, he wasn’t dull or too predictable; he was a worthy adversary, someone that brought a little more excitement to every crime Kurt committed, as if he was showing Blaine, “look, this is what I can do -– but can you solve it?”

But at some point, probably after the first time Blaine caught him, Kurt realized that it wasn’t just the chase or the excitement that kept him interested. It was Blaine himself, for some odd reason. Blaine fascinated him in a way that none of the other police officers or agents who had chased him did. He even missed Blaine in prison; that’s why he sent those birthday cards and boxes of cookies. He didn’t miss the life of a con that much, and prison was mostly boring but not that difficult –- but he did miss the FBI agent who had stopped his con-man life.

Kurt steps out of the elevator on the top floor of the building and opens the door to his apartment. There are still some things in the loft that he hasn’t had time to put in their proper places and they bother him a little, but right now he needs a glass of water. He shrugs off his coat, hangs it carefully and then moves to the small kitchen on the other side of the loft. He drops the newspaper he found in his mail box on the kitchen table, glancing at its front cover as he takes out a glass from the cabinet.

There’s a big advertisement on the front page about a new Broadway revival of West Side Story, and one of the names in the ad makes Kurt stop.

**_Rachel Berry as Maria_ **

He blinks. That was his dream once as well –- to star in a musical on Broadway, obviously not as Maria but as something equally iconic –- but that was a long time ago. Before things fell apart, before his first crime, before his and Rachel’s falling out, before Finn disappeared, before he became one of FBI’s most wanted. But in a way being a con-man and charming people with lies and half-truths is a performance as well, like he’s putting on a show every day, the world as his audience, and perhaps in that way he has reached his old dream.

Still. Good for Rachel. Good for her.

Kurt pushes the newspaper away and looks out of the window. That’s probably why he keeps slipping around Blaine, showing more of himself than he intends to. Blaine reminds him about who he used to be when he was younger and had bigger dreams. It’s not like he knew Blaine back then, but somehow the way Blaine understands art and fashion, the way he considers his words and smiles at Perry when he doesn’t realize that Kurt’s watching... They all remind Kurt of who he was, or who he still is, underneath all the crimes and grins and designer suits, the years of being on the run and striving to be the best con he can be.

He bends down to scratch the skin underneath his tracking anklet. It keeps itching, and he managed to ignore it for most of the day, only surreptitiously rubbing at it with his other foot under the desk every now and then, but he’s alone now and can give in to the urge. What was that one saying... Home is where you can scratch where it itches? Kurt looks around the loft, his gaze sliding over the large space and the furniture that was already there when he moved in the other day. He doesn’t know if it’s a home. He doesn’t know where his home is anymore.

He took Blaine’s deal because he had nothing else and because he had missed Blaine –- but he doesn’t know if he can keep it up, if the urge to run and steal won’t overpower him, if the white walls of the apartment won’t start closing in on him at some point. The cases seem interesting, as does working with Blaine and his team, and Kurt finds himself enjoying this side of the chase as well, but he doesn’t know if it will last. Doesn’t know if this is something he can do after all.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he fishes it out, still staring at the painting on the wall, the one of the Mediterranean city that reminds him of that time when he was stealing a painting in Greece and calling Blaine once a week, trying to make him guess where he was at the moment. Blaine did guess correctly at one point, but Kurt never admitted anything.

He snaps out of his daze when the phone, the one he got today from the FBI for “work-related purposes” vibrates again in his hand.

 

 **From Blaine Anderson:**  
_Forgot to properly ask if I should come pick you up tomorrow_  
_Or will you show up on my doorstep at an ungodly hour once again?_

 

Kurt can feel his lips turn into a smile, and it’s not his con-man smile this time, not the performer in him. Suddenly the loft feels open and comfortable, not yet a home but something almost like it; right now the work at the FBI feels enough, and he doesn’t want to figure out his feelings towards Blaine quite yet, doesn’t want to decide if some of their exchanges constitute as flirting or not. It’s a frightening feeling, but it also feels like he can properly breathe for the first time in years. He can be vulnerable inside the walls of this loft, and all he has to do is figure out if he could someday trust Blaine Anderson enough to be vulnerable around him as well.

Take it one day at a time. That’s what his dad used to say.

 

 **From Kurt Hummel:**  
_We’ll see._  
_You do like surprises, don’t you?_

 

It takes a moment, but eventually Blaine answers.

 

 **From Blaine Anderson:**  
_I think I’m going to have to start liking them if we want this partnership to work._

 

Kurt can’t remember the last time his heart fluttered like this, and he feels another crack appear in the old painting of his con-man life, letting in more fresh air.

 

\---

 

It’s about a week later, a week of Blaine picking him up every morning on his way to work, when Kurt decides to surprise Blaine again. He puts on one of his favorite suits, wraps a gray scarf around his neck because the weather feels colder today, and walks to the nearest coffee shop to buy a non-fat mocha for himself and a medium drip for Blaine. He breathes in the New York City air, fumes and all, because it’s also something he missed in prison. There are several reasons why New York is his favorite city in the whole world, even trumping Paris and Rome and all the other great European cities, and the buzz of the city in the early morning is definitely one of those reasons.

He rings Blaine’s doorbell at exactly half past six. He graciously decided to do it an hour later than he did the first time, even though it messes up his own schedule a little. Blaine doesn’t look quite as sleepy as he did on the first morning when he opens the door, but his hair is still a mess and he’s still wearing his pajamas, his bare feet slapping gently against the floor as he invites Kurt in. Perry wags her tail at Kurt, and he sinks his fingers into her fur, scratching behind her ears. Kurt has always thought of himself as a cat person, but apparently he has a thing for smiling Labradors as well.

Blaine takes a sip of his coffee and grumbles something under his breath that sounds a lot like, “I didn’t even give you any paper work this time...”

“I told you that I’m usually awake at this hour,” Kurt replies. Perry gets down on the floor, rolling over and presenting her tummy, obviously asking for more scratches.

“That doesn’t mean _I_ have to be awake at this hour,” Blaine says, running his fingers through his hair. He looks down at Perry, his lips twitching into a fond smile. “But at least my dog seems happy.”

Kurt looks up from the dog, taking Blaine in. For several years all he ever saw of Blaine were just glimpses of him in a suit, his hair gelled and his face determined and serious, the perfect image of an FBI agent. The Blaine that’s smiling at Perry right now seems like a completely different person in his dark blue pajamas, his hair pointing in every direction and his face the epitome of the expression ‘fondly amused’. But there’s still something similar, something in the light in Blaine’s eyes, and Kurt looks down again before he's caught staring.

Blaine yawns. “Did you eat breakfast already?”

Kurt jiggles his own coffee cup. “My breakfast is right here.”

“It’s over six hours before we have our lunch break at the office and you’re going to survive on coffee alone?” Blaine asks, shaking his head incredulously. “Alright, that’s it. Get up, I have some bagels in the kitchen. Perry and I are having breakfast, and you are cordially invited to join us.”

At the word breakfast Perry rolls over and jumps up, practically running into the kitchen with her tongue lolling from her mouth. Blaine laughs at the sight, his voice still heavy with sleep, and gestures for Kurt to follow.

“Come on,” he says with a smile. “At least she’s excited about food, and I do make a mean bagel.”

Kurt stares back at him, surprised by the sudden domesticity of the gesture. The con-man in him is whispering in his ear, telling him to flash a grin and make some suggestive joke, to shuffle the deck and con Blaine, use his good manners and kindness as a means to his own end -– except Kurt doesn’t know what his own end is anymore. Blaine is not a painting he can forge or a gallery he could rob.

And Kurt can’t remember the last time he had actual breakfast with someone who wasn't another inmate.

“Alright,” he says, faking a long-suffering sigh. “Bagels it is then. But only because I want to see you make a bagel for Perry as well,” he adds with a grin.

Blaine crinkles his nose. “She can’t eat bagels. They upset her stomach.”

Kurt looks at Blaine, blinking his eyes and hoping that Blaine can’t hear the way his heart is suddenly hammering inside his chest. He wants to giggle or at least smile like an idiot at this FBI agent who cares about his dog that much, who cares about people and saw something in Kurt when he himself thought he had nothing left, when Blaine could’ve easily just moved on and forgotten everything about Kurt. Blaine who keeps asking for Kurt’s opinion, who welcomes him into his home like he’s something else than just a common criminal, something worthwhile, and-–

Fuck.

He has a crush on Blaine Anderson.

So much for figuring things out one day at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a break in writing and posting these parts because I'm going to be rather busy for the next few weeks. So don't worry, there will definitely be more, but it won't be posted until mid-July-ish.


	7. Chapter 7

Kurt has been acting weird for the last two weeks. Well, weirder than he usually does, and even though Blaine is quite good at reading Kurt’s emotions, he has no idea what’s going on this time. It’s as if Kurt gets lost in his thoughts more often than usual, his brows furrowing and eyes staring into the distance –- and sometimes he flinches noticeably when Blaine pats his shoulder but doesn’t even twitch when Sam claps him on the back. More than once Blaine has looked up from his case files to see Kurt staring at him, apparently completely lost in thought, and when their eyes have met Kurt has immediately flashed a grin, one of those false smiles Blaine used to see targeted at unsuspecting victims of Kurt’s crimes, the one that seems to say, “you will regret this, but you should still trust me”.

It bugs Blaine. It makes him feel unsure about things he used to be so sure about, makes him question those mornings when Kurt knocks on his door with two cups of coffee and plays with his dog, makes him reconsider those doubts he has already put to rest. He doesn’t know if he’s seeing signs of Kurt plotting an escape plan or of Kurt getting used to his new life; or perhaps even of both, of some third option Blaine hasn’t even considered.

It doesn’t affect their work and everyone else at the office doesn’t even seem to notice it. Tina is still a little suspicious –- perfectly polite and good-natured around Kurt, but Blaine can see the glances Tina sometimes directs at them, like she’s making sure that Blaine isn’t getting in too deep. Sam on the other hand is completely himself, accepting Kurt and his input easily and always making sure that Kurt feels like a part of team. Sam even goes as far as asking Kurt to join him and some of the probies for a beer once. Kurt’s horrified expression made his answer clear.

So Blaine keeps going like before, enjoying the connection that has developed between him and Kurt during the little over a month they’ve been working together. He keeps solving crimes with his team and going home to Perry every night, keeps feeling like the morning comes too soon every day for his mind to put everything that happens during the day in the right order.

(At the same time in the back of his mind he’s mentally cataloguing every offbeat reaction, every moment when Kurt does something out of the ordinary, or at least out of Kurt’s scope of ordinary. He is practically waiting for the other shoe to drop.)

“I still think the culprit used the ventilation shafts to get out of the gallery,” Blaine says and opens the office door for Kurt. It’s a little over noon, and they’re going to get a quick lunch from the deli down the street before coming back to the office to continue working on the art gallery theft that happened yesterday.

Kurt slips through the doorway, shaking his head. “Have you ever tried to get out of a building through its ventilation shafts? It’s not exactly easy, Blaine.” He pushes the button of the elevator and stops to watch the numbers go up. “Besides, I took a look at the gallery’s shafts, and they were pretty small. The culprit would have to be on the smaller side to fit into them.”

It’s moments like these when everything feels normal, when they’re discussing a case and Kurt is sharing valuable information and there are no awkward looks or unnatural reactions. Blaine ducks his head and smiles to himself, stopping to stand next to Kurt.

“Alright,” he concedes after a moment, “even if escaping through the ventilation shafts still sounds really cool to me.”

Kurt snorts. “Dork. This is real life, not an action movie.”

“You should know, I suppose,” Blaine continues, still grinning. “This whole crime has a very Kurt Hummel-esque feeling, if you ask me.”

Kurt glances at him with a matching grin. “Why? Because the target was an art gallery and the culprit managed to charm the security guard to let him in after closing time and then disappeared without a trace, leaving nothing behind –- except a missing sculpture?”

Blaine gives out a laugh. “Pretty much.” The elevator’s numbers stop at the 21st floor, and eventually the doors slide open. “I bet the security guard has something to do with the whole thing,” Blaine adds as he steps into the elevator. “I know that the cameras show him sitting in his office when the sculpture disappeared, but why else would he have let the culprit in and then given a very general description of him that won’t lead us anywhere?”

“Never underestimate the charm of a good con-man,” Kurt says plainly, his eyes looking somewhere far away once again.

Blaine stops, his finger hovering over the button of the ground floor. “Right,” he answers after a while, clearing his throat and pushing the button. “We can talk about it more after lunch. I’m starving.”

Kurt almost bumps into Sam when he steps out of the elevator on the ground floor, but he quickly corrects his movement and steps aside, flashing an apologetic smile at Sam. Sam grins at them both and apparently doesn’t even notice the weird atmosphere between them, even though Blaine feels like it’s suddenly suffocating him, the not-knowing what's exactly going on inside Kurt’s head.

“Back from your lunch already?” Blaine asks, mock-punching Sam in the shoulder as they pass each other.

“Yeah, I got a call from one of the techs,” Sam says, slipping into the elevator but keeping his hand between the doors so they can keep talking. “They found a fingerprint on the glass surrounding the sculpture. It’s just a partial print and apparently it’s really smudgy, but I’m gonna go run it and wait for the results.”

“Great!” Blaine exclaims. “Let’s hope we’re lucky. Call me if you get the results before we get back?”

“Will do,” Sam says in his best Sean Connery impression before giving a salute and letting the elevator doors close between them.

Blaine turns around, suddenly feeling better and more hopeful about everything, only to notice that Kurt is standing almost right behind him, a curious look in his eyes. “What?” Blaine asks, frowning in confusion.

“He never calls you boss or anything like that,” Kurt points out, his eyes searching Blaine’s face.

“Who, Sam?” Blaine scratches the back of his head. “We worked together for years before I got my own team and we’re the same age. It’d be weird if he called me boss.” He starts towards the front door, gesturing for Kurt to follow.

“None of them call you boss, though,” Kurt adds. He straightens his bowtie, dark green today, and glances at Blaine, the curious look still present. “I heard some of the youngest probies call you boss for a few days right after they joined the team but then they started to call you by your first name as well.”

Blaine shrugs. “We’re a team. Everything we do is a team effort, whether we succeed or fail. I don’t really think of us as a group of individuals, but as a team with several different people who are all good at something but even better together.” He tilts his head, squinting his eyes in thought as he stops to open the front door for Kurt. “I know I’m technically the leader of this team, but... It’d be weird to be called the boss. I mean, I have superiors too, you know?”

Kurt pushes his hands into his pockets and turns to look at Blaine when they start walking towards the deli. “That makes sense.” He almost seems to hesitate before the next question, but then he gets it out. “Are you friends? You and Sam, I mean?”

Blaine falters in his steps. Friends. He used to have dozens of so-called friends in high school and in college, but they all usually wanted something from him, his skills or his help or something else, and he has never really had a friend he could call in the middle of the night if he needed to, someone who would understand him from half a word and share almost every aspect of his life, from good days to bad. He was always popular, but even now he only has a few casual acquaintances outside the Bureau. He’s used to it, used to the way his life tends to work out, but Kurt’s question still surprises him. A few years ago he would’ve shrugged and said no, he and Agent Evans are just colleagues, but now...

“I guess we are,” he admits quietly after a while, surprising himself. “We do sometimes hang out outside the Bureau and we talk about other things than work as well, so...” He pauses when he suddenly realizes that he’s baring his soul to Kurt once again. “Why do you ask?”

Kurt averts his eyes, absent-mindedly flashing a small smile. “Just curious, that’s all.”

Lunch is quiet. Kurt stares into space again, eating his sandwich slowly, and Blaine tries not to drop any of his salad on the suit he’s wearing, the one he just got back from the dry cleaner’s yesterday. He flicks through the newspaper the previous customer left on the table as he eats, and one of the advertisements on the front page catches his eye.

“Huh,” he says out loud, noticing from the corner of his eyes how Kurt startles from his thoughts. “I didn’t know there was going to be a new revival of West Side Story.”

Kurt hums and takes a bite of his sandwich. “It has gotten good reviews so far.”

“Oh?” Blaine takes a better look at the advertisement. “This ad especially seems to praise the actress playing Maria, a... Rachel Berry? I don’t think I’ve heard of her before.”

Kurt swallows his food. “She’s good.”

Blaine looks up at Kurt, at the way Kurt is staring at something over Blaine’s shoulder, his fingers tapping against the table almost nervously. “Have you seen her in something before?” Blaine asks.

“Yes.” Kurt shrugs. “It was years ago, but she was already good. She’s probably gotten even better since then.”

Blaine tilts his head. There’s something odd in Kurt’s voice, something hiding beneath the surface, as if he’s avoiding something about his past more than he usually does. They talk about Blaine’s personal life probably more than Blaine even realizes, talk about Blaine’s past and their shared past, about Kurt’s alleged crimes and all the exciting adventures he’s had, but they never even scratch the surface of Kurt’s personal history. When Blaine thinks about the slump in Kurt’s shoulders when he was caught the second time, he’s not sure if he even wants to ask, if he wants to push Kurt to open up.

“Are you going to go see this new revival then?” he asks, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

Kurt meets his eyes and gives a small grin. “I can’t even if I wanted to.” He gestures at his anklet. “The theatre is outside my radius.”

“I could go with you?” Blaine suggests, pointing at the newspaper with his fork.

Kurt stops and stares at Blaine, his eyes wide open in surprise.

“I mean,” Blaine explains when his mind catches up with his mouth, “you need to have an agent with you if you’re going somewhere outside your radius. And I could go see West Side Story anyway. It’s one of my favorites. And I know how you feel about musicals.”

Kurt blinks, and for a long moment his face is completely expressionless, a careful mask of nothing, until his lips slowly turn into that awkward false smile that always makes Blaine feel uncomfortable. It makes him feel like Kurt is playing him, or at least trying to, like Kurt doesn’t realize that all Blaine wants is what’s best for Kurt. He fought against his superiors to make this partnership a reality partly because of horribly selfish reasons, but also because he wanted Kurt to have another chance. He wanted Kurt to see something else than the gray prison walls for the next four years.

“I’ll think about it,” Kurt finally says and pushes the newspaper away. “Now, Blaine, do you want me to tell you a completely hypothetical story about how a certain con-man once got out of a building through its ventilation shafts? Just to give you an idea of the reality?”

Blaine forces a smile on his face, forces the doubts out of his mind for the rest of his lunch. “Sure.”

 

\---

 

Blaine has just sat down behind his desk, flexed his fingers and started to go through the e-mails he has received during his lunch break, when Sam practically runs into his office, shuts the door behind him with a loud clunk and then slumps back to lean against it. Blaine startles and blinks his eyes at him, surprised by the sudden appearance.

“What’s up?” he asks, standing up and taking a step towards Sam.

“I got the results back,” Sam says, his voice sounding thin. He waves the file he’s holding in the air, his movements jerky and nervous. “From that partial fingerprint.”

“And you found a match? Was it in the database?” Blaine asks, extending his hand towards the file.

Sam pulls his own hand back. “Well, yeah, but I...” He bites his lip. “It’s not really a... Um.”

“Sam.” Blaine tilts his head until he can meet Sam’s eyes. He has never seen Sam this unsure before. “What is it?”

“I just...” Sam gestures helplessly with his hands and then finally gives the file to Blaine. “Just –- take a look at it yourself.”

Blaine frowns but takes the file, opening it and scanning the papers quickly, his eyes stopping at a name underneath the picture of the fingerprint. He sucks in a surprised breath, and suddenly the office feels quieter, the usual chatter and noise muffled like he’s under water and the only thing that’s left is the loud beat of his heart echoing in his ears. He stares at the name, thinking that it can’t be true, it can’t, but at the same time he knows it could be true, the fingerprints say it’s true, the M.O. matches, the doubts he’s had for weeks match, but it can’t be, he _wouldn’t_ , not after everything-–

“Hey, Blaine? Blaine!”

Sam is snapping his fingers in front of Blaine’s face, and when Blaine finally manages to look up from the file he’s met with Sam’s concerned gaze.

“Dude, are you okay?” Sam asks, carefully resting a hand on Blaine’s shoulder. “You totally zoned out for a moment.”

“Y-yeah,” Blaine stutters. He lets out a shuddering breath, his eyes flicking back to the file one last time before he forces himself to look away. He pushes the file into Sam’s hands, steps away from him and runs his fingers through his hair, taking another deep breath. “I’m fine. Did you... Did you check the tracking anklet?”

Sam nods. “It shows him sitting at home around the time of the theft, but there’s a weird little blip in the data that the techs are trying to solve.” He furrows his brows and looks at Blaine. “Are you sure you’re fine? You look really pale, Blaine.”

“I’m fine,” Blaine repeats, dragging his hand down his face. His skin feels weirdly clammy. “I just... I don’t know what to think. I don’t...” He trails off, stopping to stare out of the glass wall of his office, down at the lower level and at one particular desk by the doors, at the person sitting behind it.

Sam shifts on his feet. “You do realize that his deal says he can’t-–”

“–-that he can’t commit any crimes when he’s working with us or he goes straight back to prison. I know. I _know_.” Blaine looks at the ceiling for a moment, trying to calm himself. “I just... I can’t believe he would...”

 _He’s still a con-man, Blaine_ , Tina’s voice says in his head.

Sam squeezes his shoulder with a sympathetic expression. “I can’t either, if that helps at all. Do you want me to...?” He gestures towards the office with his hand, and it takes a moment for Blaine to realize what he means.

“No,” he says immediately. “No, it should... I should be the one to do it.”

He takes the file from Sam and opens the door before his courage runs out, before he shoves the file back into Sam’s hands and tells him to do it instead. When he walks down the few steps to the lower level and starts making his way towards the desk near the doors he can feel Tina’s eyes on him, and he wonders if Sam told her already, if Sam said something to Tina or to some of the probies before he came to see Blaine –- but Sam wouldn’t, that’s the thing, so Blaine ignores the eyes following him and stops right in front of the desk they only put in its place about a month ago.

Kurt looks up from the paperwork he’s writing and smiles at Blaine. “Blaine, hi! What is it?”

And isn’t that just a cruel twist of irony, because right now, right at this moment, Kurt is the most Kurt he’s been for weeks, his smile easy and his gaze bright and excited, the dark green bowtie fitting perfectly below his Adam’s apple. He’s not staring into space or flashing a false smile at Blaine, his voice doesn’t seem to be hiding anything, and Blaine hates the way he can clearly see Kurt’s smile falter when he notices Blaine’s expression and realizes something’s wrong.

“Kurt, can you come with me?” Blaine asks in a low voice, hoping that none of the other agents hear him. He’s not going to turn this into a spectacle.

Kurt frowns, but he puts his papers down and gets up. “Is something wrong or...?”

“You’re under arrest,” Blaine explains, his own voice sounding hollow in his ears. “We found your fingerprint in the glass from the gallery.”

Kurt’s eyes widen and he takes a step back. “ _What_?” he exclaims, and Blaine winces when he notices a few of the other agents turn to look at them.

“Kurt...” he starts.

“What the hell, Blaine?” Kurt interrupts vehemently, lowering his voice and clenching his hands into fists. “I didn’t steal that sculpture. I didn’t _take_ it, just check the tracking anklet. I was at home when it happened, honestly, this must be-–”

“Kurt!” Blaine stops him. “I don’t want to put handcuffs on you in front of the whole office. Can you just come with me? Please?”

“I didn’t steal it!” Kurt says, his voice rising again. Blaine meets his eyes, and there’s a whole range of emotions shining from them, anger and desperation and sadness, and Blaine can’t take this; it feels like he can’t breathe and Kurt is practically shaking now, pleading with his eyes for Blaine to stop this, and it’s almost hysterical, the mess inside Blaine’s head right now, and he can only imagine what sort of a mess Kurt’s head is.

Sam steps forward at that moment, taking Kurt’s arm gently and leading him out of the office and into the lobby, away from the prying eyes. Kurt doesn’t fight him; he just keeps staring at Blaine, his eyes boring holes into Blaine’s heart, his face the epitome of desperate confusion. Blaine himself feels so confused that he can’t even tell if Kurt’s surprise is genuine or not, if he’s doing the right thing or ruining something beyond repair.

He looks back at the office, at all the agents that are now staring at the scene with curiosity.

“Get back to work,” he tells them tiredly, meeting Tina’s eyes across the room for a brief moment. He can’t stand to look at her right now, so he turns his back quickly on the room and follows Sam and Kurt, trying to make sense of the confusion his life has suddenly turned into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was inspired, and this chapter happened earlier than I thought. 
> 
> Also, I feel like I should mention that since I'm personally veeeery invested in White Collar, I might not realize if some of the plot points of this fic need more explaining. So if you have any questions, come at me!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long wait!
> 
> Also, I'd like to remind everyone that I'm not really an expert on crimes or on the FBI, and everything I know is a combination of snippets learnt from the tv and my own imagination. So a lot of things in this fic might be inaccurate.

Blaine watches as Kurt sits down opposite him in the prison visiting room, the well-worn table feeling wider than it did the last time they were here. It’s been a day since Kurt’s arrest; one day of Tina looking at Blaine with an expression that screams "I told you so", one day of Sam carefully patting Blaine’s shoulder every now and then (and Blaine has no idea when Sam even noticed that physical comfort tends to work better for Blaine than simple words). It’s been a day full of questions and explanations and either curious or judgmental looks, of interviews with his superiors, and Blaine is already feeling the strain in the corners of his mind, in the skin that feels too tight over him. Kurt is –- was? _Is_. –- his responsibility, and now it seems like trusting a known con-man might cost him the very job that allowed him to trust Kurt in the first place, if his superiors decide that the theft is in theory Blaine’s fault as well.

Kurt is wearing the dull orange jumpsuit once again, and his hair looks a little flatter than it did the last time Blaine saw him, probably because there isn’t exactly that good a supply of hair products in prison. The bangs hang heavily over Kurt’s forehead, but his posture is still as graceful as always, and when he lifts his head to meet Blaine’s eyes there are still so many emotions in his gaze, just like there were one day ago, from betrayal to desperation to confusion to irritation, and Blaine instinctively leans back, trying to keep his own head together at least for a moment.

“Blaine...” Kurt starts.

Blaine shakes his head, his thoughts colliding against each other. “I...” He stops, sighs and then pinches the bridge of his nose. “I just need to ask you something, Kurt, and I need you to be honest.”

“I haven’t lied to you since I took your deal,” Kurt counters and crosses his arms over his chest.

Blaine looks up and lets his hand fall back on the table. “Kurt. You basically lie for a living,” he points out with a sad smile, glancing around the room as if to remind Kurt where they are right now.

“But I haven’t lied to _you_ , Blaine,” Kurt insists, leaning over the table. “Not since the last time we were here and you gave me this chance. I may have avoided certain topics or let you draw certain conclusions, but I haven’t outright lied to you. I wouldn’t.”

“So for example all the times you’ve told me that you’re fine have been true?” Blaine asks, ignoring the way his heart skips a beat because of the conviction in Kurt’s voice. “Even that time you saw some blood on a crime scene for the first time and looked like you were about to throw up?” he adds with a wry smile.

Kurt sniffs, lifting his chin a little in defiance. “I’m always fine. It’s my constant state of being. And in my defense, that was a lot of blood for a white collar crime.”

Blaine gives out a soft laugh and ducks his head for a moment. “Alright,” he concedes as he lifts his head again. He takes a deep breath and looks into Kurt’s eyes. “Did you take the sculpture?”

“I didn’t.” Kurt sobers immediately. “Blaine, you have to believe me. I didn’t take it. Why would I risk...” He trails off, swallowing roughly. “I didn’t steal it,” he finishes in a quiet voice.

Blaine is silent for a long while, searching Kurt’s face. It’s blissfully quiet in the visiting room and inside Blaine’s head as well, the doubts and scolding words silenced for the first time since he watched Sam escort Kurt out of the FBI building a day ago. It’s like a blank slate, everything wiped clean, at least until Blaine takes a deep breath, blinks his eyes for a few times and meets Kurt’s expecting eyes.

“I believe you,” Blaine says in a low voice. He does. He can only see honesty written all over Kurt’s face, and that gives him enough strength to give in to his doubts.

Kurt leans back in surprise, and the reaction makes something inside Blaine break, even though he can understand why Kurt is surprised and why he deserves it.

“You do?” Kurt asks, incredulous.

Blaine shrugs, trying to make sense of his thoughts and understand why he trusts Kurt’s word so much. “I didn’t know what to think at first, but I have to admit that it just didn’t make sense. You’ve never left fingerprints like that before. You’re not that careless.”

“So you weren’t sure if I was guilty but you still put me back in the orange jumpsuit, even if all you had to do to believe me was to ask me face to face if I took that sculpture?” Kurt scoffs and looks away, the hurt evident in his voice. “Wow.”

“Kurt, come on.” Blaine runs his hand through his hair, messing up the gel and not even caring about it. “What else was I supposed to do? We had your fingerprints on a crime scene, and the terms of your deal are pretty strict about anything like that. If I hadn’t...” He pauses, gesturing with his hands and trying to find the right words. “I just needed some time to think, because when Sam brought me those results I really didn’t know what to think. I wanted to believe that you wouldn’t steal anything, but you’ve also been acting weird for weeks and-–”

Kurt’s eyes snap back to Blaine. “You noticed that?” he asks, his eyes wide and startlingly blue.

Blaine frowns. “Of course I did.” He leans his arms against the table, suppressing the urge to reach out and take Kurt’s hand. “I noticed it, and when I saw those fingerprint results I couldn’t help but think that you acting weird was about some scheme you were going to pull and...”

Kurt shakes his head. “No. No, it was...” He hesitates. “It was personal.”

“Personal?” Blaine repeats.

“Yes.” Kurt swallows. “I didn’t think you would notice.”

Blaine sighs, and this time he does reach out over the table and gives Kurt’s hand a brief squeeze. “Kurt,” he pleads. “I know I messed up, and I’m sorry for putting you back in prison like this, but...” He tilts his head until he can see Kurt’s downcast eyes. “But if you want our deal to work, you have to let me in as well, at least a little, at some point. Or otherwise we’ll just keep misunderstanding each other, even without any lies, and we’ll end up back here a lot sooner than either one of us wants to.”

Kurt lifts his head. “I know. I’m... working on it.”

Blaine squeezes Kurt’s hand again and then leans back, his fingers instantly missing Kurt’s soft skin. “Okay,” he says, trying to center himself again. “Okay. Do you have any idea who could’ve framed you? Any of the names associated with this case sound familiar or anything like that?”

Kurt puts his own hands in his lap and shakes his head. “No, nothing. I managed to contact a few of my old acquaintances yesterday, but they had no idea either.”

Blaine opens his mouth and then closes it. “Acquaintances?” he asks.

“One or two contacts from my previous life.” Kurt shrugs with a small smile. “Emphasis on the word previous. I just asked them if they knew if someone was trying to complicate my life.”

Blaine can’t help but grin. “Okay, I can understand why you did that.” _Especially since I’m the one who almost completely broke your trust yesterday when I just sent you back to prison without asking you anything first_ , he adds mentally and frowns down at the table. “I’ll... I’ll find out who framed you, Kurt. We’re going to get you out of here and back to your new life.”

Kurt grins, the old Kurt shining through the orange jumpsuit and the harsh prison lights. “Please do. My hair and skin aren’t that fond of prison.”

“They’ll get some fresh New York City air soon,” Blaine jokes. He pauses, hesitating for a moment, but his heart is telling him to say the next words, to show that he’s sorry for ever doubting Kurt. “I promise,” he adds.

The surprise on Kurt’s face that morphs into a gentle smile makes the thud of Blaine’s heart feel less painful.

 

\---

 

The conference room table is covered in evidence bags and photographs, in files and papers and the remnants of a take-away salad Blaine ate a few hours ago. The gel in his hair has already lost its hold after the several times he has run his fingers through his hair, and he can feel the beginning of a frustrated headache creeping around his temples.

The first thing he did when he came back to the office was commandeer the conference room for his own use and call the techs to ask them to test the fingerprint for any residue. If someone planted Kurt’s fingerprint on the crime scene, they might have left a trace of themselves behind –- but of course it’s just Blaine’s luck that the lab is busy right now, dealing with other, more urgent samples, and they couldn’t even give him an estimate of when he might get the results back. He has also left countless messages to the Marshals, who are in charge of the tracking anklet, to find out what the blip in the tracking data was. Apparently they’re busy as well.

Even though Blaine has gone through everything at least a dozen times, he has found practically nothing else. As far as anyone else is concerned, the case was closed by Kurt’s arrest, and Blaine has had to pull a few strings to even get this far with his investigation. If those two leads -– his only proper leads –- don’t pay out, he has no idea what he’s going to do.

Blaine sighs and leans against the table, hanging his head. There must be something he hasn’t realized, something that will be the key to this case, something that will point him in the right direction. He just needs to work even harder and find it. He can’t give up, not this time.

There’s a knock on the conference room door and Tina peeks her head in. “The probies are getting worried,” she says as a greeting. “They think you’re going to destroy this room in frustration or something.”

Blaine massages to back of his head and looks up with a tired smile. “Nice to know they trust me that much.”

“Oh, the highest bet was that it’ll happen after twenty-four hours. That’s dedication for you,” Tina jokes and slips inside. She gives Blaine a concerned smile. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just...” Blaine gestures at the table. “I’m missing something.”

Tina walks closer and leans over the table, looking at the evidence. “You’re completely sure that Kurt is innocent?” she asks.

Blaine sighs. “Tina, don’t...”

“I know I’m the one who told you to be careful,” Tina interrupts, “and I know I’ve been practically stopping myself from saying ‘I told you so’ since his arrest-–”

“Your face already said it loud and clear,” Blaine mutters, massaging his neck again.

“–-but if you’re sure he didn’t do it, I trust you.” Tina pulls out a chair and sits down on it. She takes the closest file on the table and opens it, looking at Blaine with her eyebrows raised. “And I want to help.”

“Tina...” Blaine shakes his head. “Everything I’m doing is off the record. Everyone else thinks that Kurt did it, and I’m taking the responsibility for this investigation. If anything goes wrong, I’m not taking you down with me.”

“I want to help,” Tina repeats simply. She leans back on her chair, apparently with no intention of giving up.

Blaine stares at her for a while, but then his shoulders relax and he breathes out a soft “thank you”, before slumping down in a chair of his own. The headache is still there, and when he stares at the evidence it almost starts to blur together, but he needs to keep going. He promised Kurt, and Blaine always tries his best to keep his promises. Especially when it comes to Kurt.

“Do we have anything else besides the fingerprint?” Tina asks, taking another file.

“Y-yeah. Yeah.” Blaine blinks a few times to clear his thoughts and then gestures at the print-outs of the tracking anklet data. “There was a blip in the tracking anklet around the time of the robbery, and Kurt swears he was at home at that time.”

Tina takes the print-outs and raises her eyebrows. “And you really think he’s innocent?”

“Tina...”

“Sorry, sorry, I had to.”

A moment later the door opens again, and this time Sam walks in, giving a small wave to them. “Have you found anything yet?” he asks.

Blaine rolls his eyes. “I thought I said I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Whatever, man, Tina’s here as well.” Sam sits down on the only empty corner of the table and looks around the room. “So. Have you found anything to get Kurt out of prison yet?”

Tina shakes her head. “Not yet, but we still haven’t heard back from the lab or from the Marshals.”

Blaine gives out a quiet laugh at Tina’s use of 'we’, but stops immediately when he suddenly hears a phone ring somewhere in the room. He jumps up and starts lifting evidence bags and files, ignoring Sam and Tina’s curious looks, until he finally finds his phone under the take-away bag and answers it. “Agent Anderson.”

“It’s Matthews from the Marshal’s office. You called us about a tracking anklet?” the woman on the other end of the line says.

Blaine straightens his back. “Yes. Yes, I did. Have you found out what the blip in the data was?”

There’s the sound of papers being shuffled around. “We did. I’m not actually even sure why you felt the need to ask us about it, Agent Anderson, since it came from an IP address that’s registered to the FBI.”

Blaine blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, the blip was just the result of someone using one of those laptops you have –- the ones that are lying around your office and that anyone can use?”

Blaine gives an apologetic smile to Sam and Tina before turning his back on them. They do have several laptops like that just in the white collar office, for handling incriminating USB drives and for several other practical uses. The laptops tend to get circled around from office to office, and anyone working for the Bureau can use them with their own password. “What about them?” he asks.

“Well, like I said, the blip was caused by someone using one of those laptops to try to access the tracking data. They didn’t get in, so the attempts resulted in a little blip in the data. That’s all.”

Blaine frowns. “They didn’t get in? So it was a hacker?”

“Could be. Or maybe it was just someone from your team who didn’t have the authorization to access the data trying to see where-–” there’s a pause, and the sound of a keyboard, “–-where Mr. Kurt Hummel was at that moment. That is his tracker, correct?”

“Correct,” Blaine answers absent-mindedly. He thinks about the security guard at the gallery, how the guard just let the culprit walk in after hours and wouldn’t even properly identify him afterwards. It’s all starting to shape up. “Could you send the results to Agent Blaine Anderson at the White Collar Division of the FBI?” he adds.

“Sure thing,” the Marshal answers. “Did you need anything else?”

“No, that’s all. Thank you.”

“Just doing our job.”

The line clicks dead, and Blaine lowers the phone from his ear, staring out of the conference room window. It’s already getting dark outside, the clear blue sky darkening into the night, and the view from the 21st floor makes the streetlights down below look like small fires that line the busy streets. Blaine pockets his phone quietly and frowns. He thinks about Kurt, alone in an empty prison cell and listening to the nighttime noises of the other inmates, perhaps feeling as sleepless as Blaine does right now. It’s going to be a long night, for both of them. He should probably call his neighbor at some point and ask her to go check up on Perry.

“So what did they say?” Sam breaks the silence.

Blaine startles, having momentarily forgotten that there were other people in the room as well. He turns around, and the second he sees Sam and Tina he knows that he has to continue this investigation alone. He can’t risk his best agents ( _his best friends_ ), not in something that can possibly turn messy.

“I...” he starts, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “I have to work on this alone. I’m sorry.”

Sam jumps down from the table. “Blaine, come on...”

Blaine shakes his head. “No, it’s... I have this hunch, and if I’m correct this can turn out to be a very confusing but important case. But if I’m wrong, if I’ve got it all wrong... I’m not going to put your jobs on the line. I won’t.”

Tina takes a step towards him. “So Kurt really is innocent?”

“He is.” Blaine looks down at the table, frowning at the files for a moment, before he lifts his head again. “And you should go home. It’s late.”

“Blaine, dude,” Sam says. “Let us help. Kurt’s a part of our team.”

“Go home,” Blaine repeats. “I have to make sure first. I’ll let you know when you can help me without risking too much.”

Sam and Tina are obviously torn, but eventually they shuffle out of the conference room. Sam stomps down the stairs to the office area, the loud sound echoing through the space and clearly showing his irritation, whereas Tina only huffs and turns around at the door, frowning at Blaine.

“You should go home as well,” she points out before she goes.

Blaine smiles. “I will.”

When the door closes behind Tina, Blaine sits down and looks around the room. He pushes the take-away bag further away and then opens one of the files again.

 

\---

 

It takes a few days, but in the end Blaine finds out that his hunch was right. Kurt was framed; in fact, the whole theft had been planned with the purpose of framing him, of putting Kurt back in prison for something he didn’t do, no matter how much it looked like he had actually done it. The fingerprint was planted, like Blaine had suspected, and the blip in the tracking data was the result of someone trying to hack into the database. The security guard had also been convinced to keep quiet, and all the Kurt Hummel-esque elements of the crime were planned ahead –- all of it to make it look like it was Kurt who took the sculpture.

When it was actually one of their own.

Agent Gilbert had been working as a probationary agent in the New York office for some months, both in the White Collar and in the Organized Crime Divisions since he hadn’t yet decided what he was going to specialize in. From the first day he met him Blaine was sure that Gilbert would choose organized crime. White collar crimes seemed to bore him –- he found them too neat, too upper-class, seeing in them the stereotype Blaine himself didn’t see anymore and knew to be untrue. Gilbert was a good agent: hard-working and quick to come up with new ideas, even if his attitude could use some change. Blaine can remember writing those exact words in the report he gave to his superiors about Gilbert’s progress a month ago.

Gilbert only worked with Kurt for a few times, but Blaine had noticed that he was one of those agents who didn’t trust Kurt and seemed to see him as a necessary asset and nothing more. But Gilbert apparently also thought that Kurt had it too easy, that he should’ve paid more for his crimes, that getting a deal with the FBI after spending four years in prison wasn’t enough for a known con-man. So he told the security guard that he was an agent working undercover and that the guard should under no circumstances let anyone know who he was. He stole the sculpture and planted Kurt’s fingerprint on the glass, and then he took one of the office laptops and tried to access the tracking anklet database to make it look like Kurt had hacked his own anklet. Except the database was more secure than he had anticipated, and he didn’t even get in.

Blaine is the one who interviews him, feeling the same headache that has been sneaking further into his mind ever since Kurt’s arrest aching around his temples. He’s the one who caught Gilbert, the one who connected all the dots, and even if there is an agent from the Office of Professional Responsibility present at the interview, Blaine gets to ask all the questions. Everyone seems to realize that this case is at least a little personal.

They’ve dealt with everything else and are already closing up when Blaine finally asks, “Why did you do it?”

Gilbert crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs. He doesn’t seem to feel too bad about what he did; mostly he just seems annoyed about getting caught, even if he must have known from the start that he was doing something very risky. Something an FBI agent should never, ever do.

“I just wanted him to have what he deserves,” Gilbert answers eventually.

Blaine feels a little sick, swallowing against the pile in his throat. “But you’re an FBI agent.”

Gilbert looks at Blaine. “That’s exactly why I did it.”

 

\---

 

The paperwork for Kurt’s release takes a while to go through, so even if Blaine wants to take his car and drive to the prison to bring Kurt away from those orange jumpsuits as soon as possible, he can’t. Gilbert has already been taken away, Blaine’s superiors have apologized to him for not trusting his judgement more, and the office has turned into an ocean of gossip and rumors. Everyone seems to be a little confused, walking on eggshells around each other, and it probably won’t stop for a while. Agents or cops committing crimes or framing someone for them is always a huge deal, especially when it happens in the relatively calm White Collar Division. Blaine knows the higher-ups are already trying to figure out how a probationary agent could have committed a crime so easily, and the case is going to follow Blaine himself for a long time.

Blaine sits in his office and rolls his shoulders, trying to get rid of the ache that has settled into his muscles after too many hours spent hunched over his computer and case files. His boss, the only one who had agreed to Blaine’s suggestion about Kurt’s deal without any persuasion all those weeks ago, just left his office, and Blaine is still trying to make sense of his words.

“You did a good job, Blaine. I think we should start trusting your hunches a bit more when it comes to Hummel,” he had said with an enigmatic smile. Blaine knows that he is the resident Kurt Hummel expert, but he has no idea what he’s supposed to make of that smile on Peterson’s face.

Blaine stops the movement of his shoulders and stares at his desk. Stupid paperwork. He had called the prison to let Kurt know he’d be getting free soon, but the bureaucracy works too slowly for his liking.

“Dude, what did Peterson say?” Sam rushes into his office, with Tina on his heels. “He was here for a really short time.”

Blaine looks up and blinks. “Oh, he just told me that I did a good job. That’s all.”

Tina brushes a lock of hair behind her ear and sighs, her shoulders slumping. “Well, it’s good to know that he’s on your side.”

Sam closes the door and furrows his brows at Tina just as Blaine asks, “What do you mean?”

“Well...” Tina hesitates. “You know how much I like office gossip?”

“Yes?” Blaine prompts. Tina follows office gossip more religiously than Blaine watches the Buckeyes’s games, and neither one is exactly a secret to anyone.

“Gilbert’s not the only one who thinks that Kurt didn’t get what he deserves,” Tina says, glancing at the closed door. “I know that I haven’t been his biggest supporter, but I do think that he helps us close cases and I’m glad he’s here instead of plotting another escape in prison. But I’ve heard some other people...” She stops, biting her lip, before she rushes out the next words. “Remember when I asked you to be careful? I wasn’t just asking for you to be careful with Kurt, I was also asking for you to not give them too much ammunition, and-–”

“Tina, what on earth are you talking about?” Blaine asks, confused.

“There are some people at the Bureau who are really suspicious about Kurt,” Tina continues, looking in Blaine’s eyes, a clear sign that she's serious. “They think he’s conning us all and that he would be better off in prison, and they...” She takes a deep breath. “They think he’s conned you into this deal. Or even that you’re... Um.”

Sam’s eyes widen. “Oh man, you mean-– I heard that rumor as well.”

Blaine looks from Sam to Tina, feeling even more like a fish out of water. “What rumor?”

Tina sighs. “Some people even think that you and Kurt are... having an affair, and that’s the reason why you gave him this deal.”

Blaine blinks. “W-what?”

“They think he’s using you,” Sam clarifies.

“He wouldn’t use me!” Blaine argues vehemently and gets up from his chair. “Just like I wouldn’t use him for something like that either.” He clenches his fists, feeling the headache coming back in full force. “How can they even... Kurt is a _good_ person –- he’s brilliant and kind, even if he’s made some mistakes –- and you’re telling me that there are actually people in this office who think he’s using me to... I don’t know, as a get out of prison for free card?”

Tina shrugs, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “Well, yes. They’re already suspicious about Kurt and now they’ve been watching the way you two interact, and they think that there’s some sort of a scheme there. That he’s conned you or that you’ve fallen for him or something.”

Blaine throws his hands up in the air, exasperated. “But I don’t even-–”

_Kurt smiling at him in the doorway, the slope of his mouth lighting up his whole face and his fingers scratching Perry's head as he tells Blaine about his morning routine; and Blaine thinks that it all feels so achingly familiar, like it's the way things are meant to be, like there's something more right in front of Blaine's eyes, waiting for him to notice it._

He stops short, his hands immediately falling down.

In that moment he realizes that at some point after meeting Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson has become very good at lying to himself.

“Exactly,” Tina says softly. “I told you to be careful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot of Kurt in this one, sorry! The next part will be from his POV again (and hopefully I will finish it a little sooner).


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another interlude from Kurt's POV.

Kurt expects to see Blaine and his FBI issued car when he steps out of the prison, straightening his jacket and checking his pockets to make sure everything he had with him when he was brought here is still there (phone, wallet, lock picks -– yep, all there). It has been weird, trusting someone else to get him out of prison when Kurt is used to working things out on his own. He did come up with one or two escape plans himself, just in case, but he wanted to trust Blaine. He wanted to take that risk and see if Blaine would be worth it, and while he doesn’t exactly want to call it a test, it probably was a test after all.

But when he lifts his gaze and sees Sam leaning against a dark blue car instead, fiddling with his phone before he looks up and waves, Kurt doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. He plasters a smile on his face anyway, waving back at Sam and crossing the parking lot.

He has been battling against his feelings for Blaine for weeks, trying to ignore them or drive them away. It will never work, he knows it -– he’s a criminal and Blaine is an agent, and even if they work well together and have moments when it almost feels like they’re friends, when Kurt is struck by how _right_ Blaine feels, fitting into his life like he has always been there, they are still from two different worlds. Con-men don’t fall in love, and people don’t fall in love with con-men. They only fall in love with the idea of a con-man, the excitement and intrigue; not with the actual person.

Kurt thought he had hidden his feelings and his inner battle well, but of course he forgot that Blaine seems to read him better than anyone else, seeing through the masks and bright smiles like they’re only a too thin layer of stage make-up. Except Blaine saw the glances Kurt had stolen and the number of times he had gotten lost in his head as signs of some criminal scheme, and Kurt thought that here was his chance -– he would give Blaine this one opportunity to fix something, and Blaine would let him down, just like people did, and then his feelings could go away and he could continue with his life without wondering what Agent Anderson’s lips would taste like against his own.

Except apparently Blaine Anderson has the habit of keeping his promises, and Kurt is still feeling things he shouldn’t feel.

“Hey man, it’s good to see you!” Sam exclaims when Kurt reaches the car. He claps Kurt’s shoulder with a wide grin. “The office wasn’t the same without you.”

Kurt smiles, surprised by the reaction. “Thanks? I thought... I thought Blaine would come and get me?” he asks, looking around a little. It’s not that he doesn’t like Sam, but Blaine was the one who picked him up the last time, and a part of him wants to see Blaine as soon as possible, wants to see how he behaves after this mess. Kurt judges people by their behavior, what can he say.

“Oh. Um.” Sam scratches the back of his head. “He was going to come, but then he said he needs to think for a while and told me to come get you. He’s probably planning on giving some sort of a speech to the team or something –- he was really upset when he found out that one of our own had framed you.”

Kurt blinks. He hadn’t even thought about that. Of course he himself is upset that someone at the FBI disliked him so much that they were willing to frame him for theft, but Kurt knows not every agent is as trusting as Blaine. But the agent was a part of Blaine’s team, and that must be difficult for Blaine as well.

They’re already driving towards the city, Sam sometimes quietly humming along to the radio and tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, when Kurt has finally gathered enough courage to ask, “How is he?”

He keeps his voice deliberately indifferent and stares out of the window, like the perfect picture of disinterest. The tracking anklet is an oddly familiar weight around his ankle again, and he bends down to scratch the skin underneath it for a distraction. Oh what an actor Broadway lost in him.

“Blaine?” Sam clarifies, and continues after Kurt’s affirmative hum. “He’s good. You know, just a bit shocked about Gilbert, I suppose.” Kurt can see him shrug from the corner of his eye. “I’m just glad this whole case is over and he can finally get a good night’s sleep.”

Kurt expects there to be a chuckle, a small laugh or something light after that sentence, something to indicate that it was a joke, but when he hears nothing, he has to turn his head and look at Sam. “A good night’s sleep?” he repeats.

“Yeah,” Sam says. “Me and Tina had to force him to go home a couple times when he was working on your release. And even then he only went home to shower and change and take care of Perry, and then he was back at the office again.” This time Sam does chuckle. “I mean, he took a nap in the conference room a few times, but he hasn’t really been resting that much.”

Something that feels suspiciously like guilt starts gnawing at Kurt’s heart, and he looks away. “Oh.”

Sam hums, apparently not sensing the change in Kurt’s mood. “Yeah, he’s always like that when he screws up. Whenever he makes a mistake he just forgets everything else until he's fixed it. It’s what he does.”

“I guess we have that in common,” Kurt murmurs.

“What was that?” Sam asks, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Nothing.” Kurt flashes a quick grin. “I was just wondering if you could take me to the office instead of my apartment?”

 

\---

 

There is clearly something going on when they step out of the elevator on the 21st floor. Practically every agent in the White Collar Division is standing in a group at the bottom of the stairs in the office, staring at Blaine who is leaning against the railing of the upper level and saying something, his hand gestures calm and collected in a way that clearly shows that he’s the one running this team, even if no one calls him the boss.

Sam opens the door, and Kurt catches the tail end of Blaine’s sentence.

“–-they’re still people,” Blaine is saying. “Even if they have committed crimes, even if they have served time or are currently serving it, I refuse to see them just as hardened criminals. Being a criminal is only a part of a person. They are not the crimes they have committed. They are people who have made bad choices.”

He pauses and looks around the room, his eyes stopping when they meet Kurt’s, and even from the other side of the room Kurt can see the way Blaine’s eyes seem to light up for a moment.

“Maybe thinking like that makes me naive or idealistic,” Blaine continues, “but I’m going to keep that belief. And I hope that everyone in my team at least tries to remember it as well. We catch people who have done something wrong, but sometimes those people deserve a second chance as well. What Agent Gilbert did wasn’t wrong only because it broke the law, but because he refused to see the person behind the criminal. And if you think like him...”

Blaine’s eyes move away from Kurt, flicking around the room. Next to him Kurt can hear Sam swallow loudly, as if he knows what Blaine is going to say next.

“If you think like him,” Blaine repeats, his voice sounding suddenly a little tired, at least to Kurt, “you should probably consider whether my team is the right team for you after all.”

The room is completely silent. Blaine glances at Kurt one last time, and then he turns his back and walks to his own office, closing the door behind him. The other agents stand still for a while, and then they slowly start to shuffle towards their own desks, a few of them nodding a greeting to Kurt when they notice him.

Tina makes her way through the crowd to Kurt and Sam, shaking her head. “I told him it might be a bit too radical, but he wanted to, quote unquote, ‘clear some air’”, she explains to Sam before turning to look at Kurt with a smile. “Hey Kurt. It’s good to have you back.”

Kurt flashes a smile of his own, surprised by Tina’s greeting. “Thanks. It’s good to be back.” He surreptitiously glances towards Blaine’s office. The curtains are drawn over the glass walls, and he can’t see inside the office, can’t see Blaine. “Orange isn’t exactly my color,” he adds to Tina, shrugging his shoulders a little.

Tina grins. “Orange isn’t exactly anyone’s color.”

“Oh, some inmates do make it work.” Kurt sniffs a little. “Did Blaine say anything about not being disturbed?”

Tina and Sam share a glance. “No, I’m sure he’d be happy to see you,” Tina finally says. “I have to get back to work. Welcome back, Kurt.” She reaches out her hand, pauses, and then after a moment pats Kurt’s shoulder rather clumsily, before she heads back to her own desk.

“Yeah, same here,” Sam adds with a smile. “If you need a ride to your apartment later on, let me know.”

Kurt nods, and once Sam moves away, he slowly crosses the office space, feeling the way some of the agents glance at him as he passes. Kurt takes a deep breath, lifts his chin and straightens his back, ignoring the looks until he has climbed the stairs to the upper level and the agents’ eyes can’t follow him anymore. Sometimes he does wonder if some of the agents think working in an office space is just like being back in high school, with the same set of unwritten rules and the same amount of gossip.

He knocks on the door of Blaine’s office and then opens it without waiting for an answer, peeking in and expecting to see Blaine sitting at his desk as usual. Instead Blaine is standing, leaning against the back wall of the room, his shoulders slumped and his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. The lights are off, and only the weak sunlight of the cloudy day outside shines through the window, making the whole room seem more shadowy and gray.

“Blaine?” Kurt asks hesitantly, stepping in and closing the door behind him.

Blaine looks up, breathing out slowly when he sees Kurt. He pushes himself away from the wall and takes a hesitating step forward. “Kurt. Hi.”

“Hi,” Kurt answers. “That was an impressive speech you gave there.”

Blaine gives out a laugh and massages the back of his neck. “Tina said it wasn’t necessarily a very good idea, but I just... I had to make some things clear.” He meets Kurt’s eyes, his voice gaining more determination. “We’re supposed to be a team, and you’re a part of that team, and I... I won’t allow anyone to make you feel like you don’t matter because of your past.”

Kurt’s heart thumps painfully in his chest, loud in the stillness of the room. _You matter_. He looks away, shaking his head.

“You’re an impressively good person, Blaine,” he says softly.

“I... I try my best.” Blaine frowns. “But if I am, then so are you.”

“Well, I did just get out of prison, but...” Kurt jokes, trying to steer the conversation away from something too serious.

Blaine’s frown only deepens, and he takes another step towards Kurt. “Didn’t you listen to what I was saying out there? None of that makes you a bad person. I know you never stole from anyone who couldn’t afford it, and you never used guns or violence, and...” He sighs and gestures with his hands at Kurt. “I mean, yes, you made some mistakes, Kurt, but you’re still a good person.”

Kurt can’t remember the last time someone called him a good person, and he surprisedly realizes that it feels somehow even better than the rush after a successful con or the thrill of getting away with a priceless painting. He digs his hands into his pockets, trying to ignore the stupid feelings fluttering inside of him, and looks out of the window. The clouds hang heavily over New York, like splotches of paint on a canvas, and Kurt suddenly wishes he had a paint brush so he could memorize the way Blaine looks right now against the background of New York City’s bleak skyline, the way his eyes seem to be the only source of light in this dim room.

“Thanks,” he says after a moment. “I’m glad you think that way.”

Blaine nods. “I do. And I’m... I’m sorry that I just put you back in prison like that. That was wrong, and I should have talked to you at first. I mean, hacking isn’t even your thing, but I still assumed that you...” He gestures with his hands again, his shoulders slumping back down as he sighs. “I’m just... I’m sorry.”

Kurt moves his eyes from the window to Blaine. If Blaine is good at reading Kurt, then Kurt knows he himself is pretty good at reading Blaine as well, and right now he can clearly see the guilt in Blaine’s eyes; guilt and sadness and just an overall tiredness –- he has dark circles around his eyes, and Kurt can see that the gel in his hair isn’t as rigid or impeccable as it usually is. There are even some small wrinkles in his clothes, signs of too many hours spent at the office.

“It’s okay,” he says. “You did what you had to do. Besides, you did get me out of prison, so...”

Blaine’s mouth twists into a small smile. “Well, that seems to be my thing. I put you in prison and then I get you out as well.”

Kurt gives out a laugh. “Don’t get cocky, Anderson. I did have an escape plan ready.”

Blaine’s smile widens. “You did? Why doesn’t that surprise me? How many escape plans did you make?”

“One,” Kurt says defiantly.

Blaine raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, maybe two or three,” Kurt admits after a moment. As if he could lie to Blaine.

Blaine grins. “I knew it.” He takes another step towards Kurt and opens his mouth to say something, but suddenly he sways a little, closing his eyes and lifting his hand to his forehead. “Huh,” he breathes out, steadying himself.

Kurt immediately steps into Blaine’s personal space and, after a brief moment of hesitation, rests his own hand on Blaine’s shoulder for support.

“Sam told me you haven’t been sleeping properly,” he says, and his voice sounds surprisingly gentle in his own ears. It’s been years since he last took care of someone other than himself, but apparently old instincts are hard to get rid of, especially when it comes to ridiculously dutiful FBI agents.

Blaine blinks his eyes a few times. “I didn’t have time to sleep,” he says sheepishly, lowering his own hand and leaning into Kurt’s touch almost unconsciously. “I had to get you out of prison, didn’t I?”

 _I had to fix what I’d done wrong_ , Kurt hears, and something tightens around his heart. He unconsciously rubs Blaine’s shoulder with his hand, furrowing his brows when Blaine doesn’t react to the touch in any way and just keeps staring at the floor, his eyes blinking slowly.

“Blaine?” Kurt says eventually, squeezing Blaine’s arm. “Why don’t we get you home?”

Blaine startles, lifting his head and looking at Kurt. “What? No, it’s just...” He glances at his wristwatch, squinting his eyes to tell the time. “It’s just a little after five, I should still finish that report about...”

Kurt shakes his head with an amused laugh. “Blaine, no. You look like you’re about to fall asleep, and you’d probably end up writing gibberish in that report. Give me your car keys, I’m driving you home.”

Blaine frowns at him. “ _You’re_ driving me?”

“I do have a driver’s license,” Kurt reminds him. He gives Blaine’s shoulder one last pat and then turns around, his hand somehow missing the warmth of Blaine’s arm as soon as it’s gone. He shakes his head to focus, walking to the desk to check that Blaine’s computer is shut off and straightening a few piles of papers in passing.

“You have several driver’s licenses, actually,” Blaine corrects. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Checking that your office doesn’t look like a mess so we can leave,” Kurt answers. “Obviously,” he adds and glances back just in time to see Blaine roll his eyes in amusement. The gesture feels familiar and friendly, as does the whole conversation, and Kurt can’t even be bothered to pull back, to act like whatever this is between them doesn’t make him feel oddly at home and more like himself than he has for years.

After the few lonely days in prison all of this just feels too precious for him to turn it into a con.

“Do you have your keys and your phone?” he asks, snatching an empty take-away coffee cup from the side table and throwing it into the waste paper basket.

Blaine starts patting down his pockets, his face scrunching up in tired concentration. “Um, yeah, I seem to have everything –- wait, my keys are not...”

Kurt dangles the keys in front of Blaine’s face with a grin. “I’ve got them.”

Blaine stares. “How did you-– They were in my pocket. Did you just pick my pocket?” He probably tries to sound scolding, but it comes out more amused than anything.

“I told you I’m driving,” Kurt reminds him.

“But I-–”

“No.” Kurt fixes Blaine with a stare. “You’re going to go home and sleep and just... Not think about work for a few hours. And I’m not going to let you drive when you look that tired.”

Blaine huffs out a laugh, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now I understand how you charmed all those people you conned. You just bossed them around like this.”

His eyes are twinkling, not looking as guilty or sad anymore, and Kurt calls that a success. He twirls Blaine’s keys in his hand and shrugs, letting a grin tug at his own lips. “That’s just one of my many talents,” he says, winking at Blaine.

Blaine ducks his head, a tinge of a blush on his cheeks. “I can see that.”

Kurt stares at Blaine, at the way his eyelashes fan over his cheeks and the way his lips turn into a small smile, and feels his own chest tighten with all the feelings locked inside of him. He has no idea why Blaine is blushing, but the sight of it and the tone of Blaine’s voice make him feel warm all over -– even though they shouldn’t, even though Kurt knows he can never have more than this, that this banter between them is all he can have and even that’s more than he deserves. It doesn’t matter that Blaine is kind and clever and trustworthy, it doesn’t matter that Kurt’s heart instinctively skips a beat when Blaine smiles at him like he’s the only person in the room. He can never have more than this, and that’s the end of it.

“I’m just returning the favor,” he finally says. “You worked hard to get me out of prison, so it’s only fair that I get you home.”

Blaine lifts his head, surprised. “I...” He stops and then shakes his head with a small smile. “Never mind. Let’s go then.”

 

\---

 

It’s been a while since Kurt has driven in New York, but like he said, he does still have a driver’s license, and he has also always been observant. He knows how to get to Blaine’s apartment on foot and by car, and he manages the streets and the late afternoon traffic easily. He glances at Blaine sitting in the passenger seat every now and then as he drives, checking if he’s still awake. Blaine had seemed relatively awake when they left the office, but ever since Kurt started the car his eyes have been blinking more and more slowly, his body relaxing against the seat and the stiffness disappearing from his muscles.

He looks somehow younger than usually, almost in the same way as he does in those mornings when Kurt wakes him up at half past six and gets to see him all sleep-mussed and barely awake. The strict and authoritative features of Agent Anderson turn softer and less worried, and Kurt tries very hard to keep his eyes on the road and not in the man almost dozing next to him, suddenly feeling like this Blaine is some private version of him, something that not a lot of people get to see.

They don’t speak much during the ride, Blaine only occasionally making sure that Kurt knows which street to turn to. The radio is on, but Kurt had turned the volume down when he started the car, and he can barely hear the low murmur of the songs as he drives. Blaine hums quietly along at one point, apparently recognizing the song, and Kurt glances at him from the corner of his eye, seeing that Blaine’s eyes are halfway closed already and that he has practically melted against the seat.

For some reason the sight makes him smile.

Blaine does still straighten up when they pull into his street. He tells Kurt where to leave the car, and then slowly gets out when Kurt has parked the vehicle, leaning against it and taking a deep breath of fresh air while Kurt locks the doors. The air feels a little colder than it did when Kurt left the prison earlier that day, and he sees how Blaine pulls his coat more tightly around himself.

Blaine doesn’t seem to be too sleepy yet since he manages the stairs to his apartment on the second floor just fine. Kurt still stays close to him, watching as Blaine yawns a few times. Perry meets them at the door and goes crazy when she realizes it’s Blaine stepping into the apartment – she whines and pushes her muzzle against Blaine’s leg, her tail wagging rapidly, and Kurt smiles amusedly as she practically tries to wrap herself around Blaine.

“Hey girl,” Blaine coos, scratching behind her ears. “I missed you too. And I’m sorry you were stuck with Ms. Avninder for so many days. I bet she gave you more treats than I do, though, didn’t she?”

“Ms. Avninder?” Kurt can’t help but ask. Perry seems to realize his presence at that moment, and she turns to look at him, her tongue lolling from her smiling mouth, before she focuses back on Blaine again.

“Oh, she’s my neighbor,” Blaine explains, looking up at Kurt from the floor where he’s crouched with his hands buried in Perry’s fur. “She takes care of Perry if I’m caught up in a case or something.”

“That’s convenient,” Kurt mentions and bends down to pet Perry’s back.

“Oh yeah, she’s a real sweetheart,” Blaine says. “And so are you,” he adds to Perry, kissing the top of her head.

Kurt laughs as he steps further into the apartment. There is a rumpled shirt on the backrest of Blaine’s sofa, obviously left there some time ago, and Kurt clucks his tongue when he sees it. A part of him wants to take the shirt and fold it neatly, but that would be a bit too domestic, a bit too everything, so he just turns around and watches as Blaine finally gets up from the floor, patting Perry one last time.

“Oh!” Blaine suddenly exclaims when his eyes meet Kurt’s. “How are you going to get back to your own apartment? I can call Sam if-–”

Kurt waves his hand in the air. “It’s fine, I can just walk or take the subway. Or call a cab.”

Blaine frowns and shrugs out of his coat, hanging it by the door. “Still. I’m sorry you had to drive me home.” He yawns again and rubs his eyes with his hand. “Though I have to admit that I probably wouldn’t have been a very safe driver in this state.”

“Like I said, it’s fine,” Kurt assures him. “Are you good now or...?”

Blaine blinks a few times and then nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I’m just...” He gestures with his hand towards the direction where Kurt suspects his bedroom is. “I’m just going to go to bed with my dog and get some sleep. Even if it’s not that late yet. Would you like some coffee or something-–”

Kurt shakes his head. “No, I’m okay. I think I’m going to head home as well.”

They stand still for a moment, awkwardly looking at each other, both of them suddenly hesitant about what to say and what to do. Perry sits down near Blaine’s feet, staring at them with apparent curiosity. Kurt smiles at her and shuffles his feet, and he has just opened his mouth to say goodnight and make his leave, when Blaine suddenly speaks up.

“Kurt,” he starts, his eyes weirdly serious. “Are we... I know we work together and we’re practically partners, but we... We’re friends too, right?”

Kurt startles, blinking in surprise. His heart starts beating wildly inside his chest, almost hammering against his ribcage, and it takes every ounce of his con-man persona to keep his face as neutral as possible. He looks at Blaine, at the painfully honest and hopeful expression on his face –- on the face of the FBI agent who caught him twice and put him in prison three times, of the man who for some reason trusts him and wants to keep him around and doesn’t break his promises. Kurt remembers his own promise to Blaine, how he said he would work on trusting him, and he might not be ready to tell Blaine everything yet, but he can tell him something.

“I... I think we are,” he ventures, averting his eyes. “At least I’d like us to be?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath, and then there are suddenly arms around him, wrapped tightly around his shoulders, and Kurt freezes automatically. It’s been a long time since someone hugged him, too long a time, but Blaine holds him carefully, like he’s trying his hardest not to scare him away, his chin hooked over Kurt’s shoulder and his hands resting gently on his shoulder blades. Blaine feels warm against him, and a part of Kurt just wants to wrap himself around Blaine and never let go, cling to him and tell him everything -– but it’s just not how he works. He hasn’t worked like that for years, so he only takes a deep breath and carefully lifts his own arms around Blaine, squeezing a little to show that he’s okay. That this, whatever it is, is okay.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you and just put you back in prison like that,” Blaine murmurs.

Kurt swallows, hoping that Blaine can’t hear his heartbeat. “I’m sorry I can’t trust you completely yet.”

Blaine leans away from Kurt, looking into his eyes with a serious expression. “It’s okay,” he says slowly, like he’s considering his every word. “You said that you’re working on it, and... And that’s more than enough.”

Kurt searches his face, feeling like he has shown more of himself than he ever has before, even if he hasn’t even said that much. But Blaine’s eyes are bright and trusting, void of disappointment or judgment.

“Okay,” Kurt breathes out. He takes a step away from Blaine, suddenly feeling a little claustrophobic, and Blaine lets him, dropping his hands. “I think I’m going to go now and let you sleep,” Kurt continues. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Blaine nods with a small smile. “I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

“Good.” Kurt nods as well and then walks past Blaine, bending down to pet Perry’s head on his way. “Bye, Perry,” he whispers with a smile, and the dog looks up at him, her tail giving a few lazy wags.

“Kurt,” Blaine calls after him, and Kurt turns around at the door, his hand already resting on the door handle.

“Yes?” he asks when Blaine just looks at him, the small smile still lingering on his lips.

“It’s good to have you back,” Blaine says simply.

Kurt smiles slowly back at him. “It’s good to be back.”

He said the exact same words to Tina earlier that same day, but when he reaches the street and starts walking towards his own apartment he realizes that he meant them a lot more this second time.

For some reason that thought makes him hum along to the song inside his head for the first time in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The updates might be a bit slower from now on because of real life messing with my writing, but I'm not going to abandon this fic. That's a promise.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't supposed to post this yet, but then I finished it and thought, "Oh well. Might as well post it now. It's not getting any better than this." So here we go - I won't start hoarding chapters after all. ;)

Kurt’s loft is quiet around them, with only the occasional hum of the refrigerator interrupting the silence every now and then. They’re sitting at the dining room table, empty water glasses forgotten next to their elbows, and Kurt twirls a coin in his fingers, skillfully shifting it from one knuckle to the other as he reads the case file and worries his lower lip between his teeth in concentration.

Blaine should be concentrating on his own copy of the file, on trying to figure out how they could solve the case they’re working on (insider trading, and the amount of money involved in the case means they should try to solve it as quick as possible) –- but he can’t help but follow the coin’s movement over Kurt’s knuckles with his eyes. Kurt’s fingers are long and graceful, and the coin never stops or wobbles even though Kurt doesn’t seem to pay any attention to it. The late evening sunlight catches on the coin every now and then, and Blaine knows he’s not being exactly subtle in his staring, but he can’t seem to make himself stop.

Elegance. Effortless elegance. That’s what Blaine often thinks about these days when he watches the way Kurt moves, the way he weaves between people in New York’s busy streets with his head held up high. Blaine knows he himself has always been good at faking confidence, at putting on a brave face and making everyone believe that he knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t have to fake that much anymore -– he knows his own strengths and weaknesses now, or at least knows them better than he did years ago back in Ohio –- but somehow Kurt just seems to... exude confidence in his fitting suits and impeccable hair, in his precise and skillful movements.

Blaine knows that Kurt can be insecure as well; he has seen Kurt’s shoulders slumped and his eyes dull, but the difference between them is that Kurt seems to decide every morning that he’s going to be confident, that he’s going to beat whatever challenges the world throws in his way, and then he completely assimilates that decision until his whole body is thrumming with it.

As if he’s deciding that he can face everything, and then actually faces it with his chin up.

“Lost in your thoughts?” Kurt asks suddenly.

Blaine startles, blinking his eyes until he realizes that Kurt is looking at him with his eyebrows raised in amusement, the coin still skipping over his knuckles.

“Um,” Blaine stammers, trying to clear his head. “Yeah, just lost in my thoughts.” He nods towards the coin. “And wondering how you’re doing that.”

“This?” The coin stops, and Kurt flips it on his thumb, tosses it in the air and then catches it with his hand. “Years of practice.”

Blaine lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Y-yeah, sure. So you’re telling me that you’re not just a natural talent?”

Kurt shrugs. “I’m not. I... I used to be a bit of a klutz when I was a kid,” he admits and smiles down at the coin. “I mean, most of the time I had perfect control over my movements, but every now and then I would trip over my own feet or stumble when I was practicing some move or just do something really awkward.” He looks up, and his smile is almost a little wistful. “Con-men can’t exactly be awkward, so... Years of practice.”

Blaine stares at him, suddenly aware of his heartbeat. This has been happening more and more often recently -– Kurt dropping tidbits of information about his past in the middle of a conversation, as if he’s offering them for free at the exact right moments. They’re never anything huge, never anything about his family or about where he grew up or what made him choose a life of crime, but they still paint a picture of who Kurt was before he became a con-man.

It started one morning when they were sitting in the conference room after a long stake-out -– Blaine, Kurt, Sam and Tina, all of them in various states of tiredness. Somehow the conversation turned to the ridiculous Halloween costumes of their childhood, to Sam painting his skin blue so he could look like a Na’vi and Tina scaring her high school teacher with her vampire costume. Blaine told them about the year when he was around four or five and dressed up as young Anakin Skywalker from Star Wars Episode I. Cooper was young Obi-Wan Kenobi that year, and he almost poked out their neighbor’s eye with his lightsaber.

Blaine was honestly a little surprised that he didn’t feel any bangs of sadness when he finished the story. Those costumes had been years and years ago, back when he still idolized Cooper and Cooper still thought he was worthwhile, back when things were simpler, before... before _everything_ , and Blaine was getting lost in his thoughts already, when Kurt suddenly straightened in his seat and opened his mouth.

“I dressed up as Lady Gaga in high school.”

They all turned to look at him, Blaine’s thoughts scattering everywhere all at once. Kurt was grinning, his posture relaxed, sitting there between three agents without a care in the world. Blaine stared at him, and then he realized -– this was Kurt keeping his promise even though Blaine hadn’t asked. This was Kurt opening up and offering something about himself, some ordinary piece of information that wouldn’t matter that much to anyone else but that still somehow made Blaine feel weirdly... touched.

Because this was Kurt, the mystery he had been trying to solve for years, the man who grinned and hid behind blinding confidence; this was Kurt showing parts of himself that Blaine had never even dared to imagine.

“Dude, that sounds so cool,” Sam gushed. “What did you wear?”

Kurt smiled, leaning back on his chair. “It was... That sequined silver dress from Bad Romance?”

Tina’s eyes widened. “With the shoes?”

“With the shoes,” Kurt confirmed, his smile widening when Tina winced. “They weren’t that bad, they just took some getting used to. And my feet hurt like hell the next day, but it was worth it.”

“Please tell me someone took pictures,” Sam said with a grin.

Kurt winked. “Oh, naturally.” There was a brief flash of something in his eyes, something Blaine would’ve missed if he hadn’t been looking; something that looked a lot like longing, even though Kurt’s smile was still as wide as it had been. “But I don’t exactly carry old photos with me,” he added with a small shrug.

The conversation moved to other things after that, but Blaine kept glancing at Kurt, still a little surprised by the story. Kurt met his eyes across the room and smiled at him, all him and no con-man, and Blaine smiled back, something warm unfurling inside of him.

After that the random little stories have been happening at least once a week, always when Blaine least expects them. Kurt has told him about the first bowtie he had as a kid, about the places he’s been to, about the mundane everyday happenings of his past, things that everyone else sprinkles into conversation almost automatically. But with Kurt Blaine knows that they mean something else. They are about Kurt showing Blaine something not a lot of people have seen before him, something that demands trust.

It feels... nice, to know that Kurt feels like he can trust Blaine with this.

“Years of practice,” Blaine repeats, looking away. He once told his superiors that every single new alias Kurt Hummel makes is a reinvention of the previous ones, with barely nothing surviving of the original. Perhaps Kurt himself is a reinvention as well; a boy who was a bit clumsy and dressed up as Lady Gaga at Halloween and who then turned into the man sitting in front of Blaine in his designer clothes and with the perfect air of confidence. Blaine’s smile turns a little sadder. “That sounds... rough.”

Kurt shrugs, turning the coin over in his hands. “It was a good distraction.”

“From what?” Blaine asks.

Kurt doesn’t look at him. “From the way things were back then.”

Blaine can sense that this is starting to be too much, too personal, can see Kurt starting to dance around the topic, and he clears his throat softly, pushing away from the table and standing up. He takes his own empty water glass and reaches for Kurt’s.

“I’m going to get some more water before we continue working on the case,” he says. “Do you want some as well?”

Kurt does look at him now, and his smile is grateful. “Sure. Thanks.”

In the kitchen Blaine fills the glasses with cold water and then stands still for a moment, leaning against the counter and taking a few deep breaths. They have been coming over to each other’s apartments more and more since the Gilbert case, working on case files at Blaine’s apartment or at Kurt’s loft, and Blaine already knows his way around Kurt’s apartment almost as well as he does his own. He knows that Kurt can’t see him from the dining room when he stands right in this spot, trying to calm his heart and his mind.

The glimpses into Kurt’s past not only make Blaine feel trusted and thankful, but they also make him want to reach over the table and take Kurt’s hand in his own; to stand up, walk over to him and wrap his arms around him, the way he did all those weeks ago in his apartment when Kurt said he’d like them to be friends as if it was a question and not an actual possibility.

They make Blaine want to lean over the table and press his lips against Kurt’s, to finally find out what Kurt’s smile tastes like so he wouldn’t have to imagine it anymore.

But there are some lines Blaine won’t cross. Just Kurt’s friendship is more than enough; it’s quickly becoming the closest relationship Blaine’s ever had with anyone, as bizarre as it sounds, and Blaine can’t risk it. Not to mention that he can’t risk his job or Kurt’s job. Tina has told him that there are still agents at the Bureau who think that Kurt is conning him, and even if Kurt felt the same way about Blaine as Blaine feels about him, he can’t... Blaine can’t give those agents more ammunition against Kurt. He won’t be that selfish.

(If someone would’ve told him years ago that he would fall this badly for his CI, for the Songbird, for Kurt Hummel, he would’ve probably...

Well. He probably wouldn’t have been that surprised, actually.)

Blaine takes one more deep breath before he takes the now full glasses from the counter and walks back to the dining room. He smiles when he sees Kurt still sitting at the table, carefully adjusting the monitor around his ankle.

“I’m guessing that thing doesn’t need any more getting used to,” Blaine points out and puts Kurt’s glass in front of him on the table. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Kurt replies, straightening and taking a sip of the water. “You took your time.”

Blaine gives an apologetic smile and tries not to think about Kurt’s lips. “I got lost in my thoughts again,” he admits. “But this time it could be useful.” He picks up the case file and starts scanning it, trying to find the right report. “We’ll probably have to send someone undercover to the company-–”

Kurt’s eyes lights up, an excited grin practically breaking his face in half. “Undercover? Ooh.”

Blaine laughs. “Yes, that someone will probably be you. But not just because you’re our resident criminal informant.” He finally finds the right report and pushes the file over the table to Kurt. “The name on the third line sounded familiar to me, but I placed it only now. It’s probably familiar to you as well?”

“Natalie Arrow,” Kurt reads, leaning back in his chair. “You’re right, she most likely is connected to the insider trading,” he muses. “It’s right up her alley. I might have done some business with her once upon a time. Allegedly.” He sniffs and lifts his chin a little.

Blaine raises his eyebrows.

“Fine, Curtis Lawrence might have done some business with her,” Kurt corrects and rolls his eyes.

“I’m starting to feel glad that we didn’t burn all of your aliases when we were closing in on you,” Blaine says wryly.

“But you did burn a lot of them,” Kurt mumbles and then looks at the file again. “So, what? You think Curtis should pay Natalie Arrow a visit after all these years?”

Blaine hums an affirmative and leans his elbows against the table. “Maybe he could ask her some questions...”

“... see if she would like to let him in on the scam to keep him quiet about whatever it is she’s doing,” Kurt finishes for him, flashing a smile. “I like the way you think, Anderson.”

Blaine ducks his head with a laugh and scratches the back of his head. “Thanks. I’ll talk to my superiors, and if they accept the undercover assignment, we’ll start to spread the word about Curtis Lawrence’s return tomorrow. If that’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay,” Kurt says. He sighs theatrically. “Oh, Curtis -– I’ve missed him.”

“You’ve missed him or missed being him?” Blaine asks, confused, as he starts to gather up all the files and papers strewn all over the table.

“Him,” Kurt replies cheekily.

Blaine shakes his head in amusement. “Sometimes I really don’t understand you.” He stops when he picks up one of the papers underneath Kurt’s files and sees that the previously blank sheet is full of light pencil sketches. “Kurt? Did you draw these?” he asks, confused.

“Hm? Oh, those.” Kurt actually blushes, and Blaine stares at the way the color spreads over his cheeks. “It’s kind of what I do? For stress relief. Or when I’m working on something. Just to have something to do with my hands, kind of like with the coin.”

Blaine looks down at the paper again. The sketches are all of various articles of clothing, flowing lines of outfits blending together across the white paper –- suits and dresses and coats and even a few bowties. They are clearly just rough sketches with minimal shading, and in some places the pencil lines are so faint that Blaine has to squint to see them. But even though Blaine’s knowledge of fashion is obviously not as extensive as Kurt’s, and the last time he saw sketches of clothes was when a designer dress was stolen six months ago and his team investigated the theft, he can still tell that these sketches are more than just stress relief or idle doodles.

“Kurt,” he says in a low voice, following the lines of the clothes with his eyes. “These are beautiful.”

Kurt waves his hand in the air, brushing the comment away. “No, no, they’re just something I do. You’ve seen my forgeries, Blaine. These doodles can’t even compare to any of those.”

“But these aren’t forgeries,” Blaine counters, setting the paper carefully on the table, away from the case files and reports so it doesn’t get lost. “These are your own work. Originals. And I think they’re gorgeous.” He looks up at Kurt with a small smile. “I wouldn’t mind wearing one of these designs myself.”

“Oh. Well.” Kurt blushes an even deeper shade of red. “I’ve been drawing clothes ever since I can remember, so it’s just... I’ve gotten used to it, that’s all.” He takes the sketches from the table and looks at them himself, his brows furrowing.

“Could I...” Blaine starts, hesitating as he puts a pile of case files on the table and then gestures at the sketches. “Could I keep them? I mean, if you don’t want to have them yourself?”

“Blaine.” Kurt sounds both confused and amused. “They’re just some silly sketches I drew while I was trying to figure out the case, that’s all. They’re not exactly a masterpiece. I was just going to throw them away or something.”

“I’d like to have a Kurt Hummel original,” Blaine argues with a smile. “I mean, yes, your forgeries are amazing, but this is something you came up with on your own. That deserves to be kept.”

Kurt stares at him, his eyebrows raised. “You really want to keep this?”

“Yes.”

“You do realize I’ll probably just draw some more the next time I’m working?” Kurt says but hands over the sketches to Blaine anyway.

“You shouldn’t throw those away either.” Blaine takes the paper and gently touches the sketch of a bowtie at the bottom of the page. “You might have use for them one day.”

Kurt shakes his head in amusement. “You’re being weirdly persistent about a bunch of silly doodles, Blaine.”

“Not silly,” Blaine objects. He slips the sketches between his own case files, making sure they won’t get crumpled on his way home. “They’re beautiful.”

Kurt looks at him, tilting his head. He’s quiet for a long while, as if he’s considering Blaine’s words, but eventually he shakes his head with a small smile and says, “Fine. Keep them. And I promise I won’t throw them away anymore, if you really think I shouldn’t.”

“Thank you.” Blaine thinks about the small wooden box he has on top of his bookshelf at home, the one where he keeps all the birthday cards and notes Kurt sent from prison or from the run. When he gets home, he’s going to slip the sketches in the box with the others for safe-keeping –- as a reminder of how far they’ve come.

He can feel a fond smile tugging at his lips, and when he looks up Kurt is still staring at him, something hiding right behind his eyes, something secretive in the curve of his own smile, and the urge to reach over the table and kiss that smile is even harder to resist this time.

The worst part of it all is that Blaine can read Kurt, can understand his emotions better than anyone else at the Bureau, and sometimes the secretive shade falling over Kurt’s face looks a lot like a reflection of Blaine’s own feelings, directed right at him –- but even if Blaine can read Kurt, there are some things Kurt is exceptionally good at hiding, some things Blaine doesn’t recognize for sure, some things that seem too good to be real, and the moment he starts to doubt is also always the moment he remembers what they are, who they are, and what kind of people are waiting for them at the office every day.

Blaine clears his throat and looks away. “I... I should get home. It’s getting late.”

“Oh.” Kurt blinks, as if he was the one lost in his thoughts this time. “Right. Yes. Perry probably misses you already.” He grins.

Blaine laughs. “She misses me even if I just go to the grocery store for five minutes.”

Kurt’s grin turns softer, the way the corners of his lips turn up catching Blaine’s attention again.

“Of course she does,” Kurt says in a quiet voice, and Blaine has no idea what to make of it.

 

\---

 

Sam slams the door of the van closed, grins at Tina and then flops unceremoniously down on his seat in front of the computer. “Man, I _love_ the van.”

“Noted,” Tina comments dryly, not even moving her eyes away from the screen.

“It makes me feel like we’re actually doing something, you know?” Sam continues, turning to look at Blaine when it’s clear that Tina isn’t going to be captivated enough. “Like we’re actually solving crimes! Yeah!”

He punches Blaine’s shoulder lightly, and Blaine turns to look at him. His smile is probably a little long-suffering, but he can’t exactly help it. “Sam,” he says slowly. “You give this same speech every time we have a stake-out and have to spend time at the van. You love the van. We know.”

Sam leans back in his chair, gesturing with his hands and ignoring Blaine’s words. “Don’t get me wrong, dude, I know writing reports is important and being out on the field is pretty awesome as well, but –- the van. The van! There’s just something about it.”

Blaine shakes his head with a laugh. “Whatever you say, man.” He is about to continue when he hears a scratching noise from the headphones dangling around his neck and quickly lifts them to his ears.

“I’m one block away from the company,” Kurt’s voice says in a whisper in his ear. “Just thought I’d let you know.”

Blaine pulls the headphones back down. “Okay, people, we’re on in a moment!” Everyone in the van straightens up, focusing on their equipment. “Kurt has a microphone and a GPS tracker, so we can hear everything that happens and track him if something goes wrong,” Blaine reminds them. “Unfortunately we couldn’t risk putting a camera on him, but there are a few agents with hidden cameras right outside the building, and we should have access to the security cameras inside the company, right?”

“Yep,” Tina answers brightly, pulling up all the footage from the building’s lobby on her screen. “Thank you, cooperative security firms,” she trills.

“More like thank you, court orders.” Blaine rubs his neck for a moment. “Tina, you keep your eyes on the cameras. Sam, if Natalie Arrow mentions any names or anything, check them from our database and see if we can get any clues from them.”

“Got it.” Sam turns back to his computer.

“Let’s do this. I’m putting Kurt’s microphone on speakers,” Blaine says, clicks a few buttons until the hum from the microphone fills the van, and then moves his own chair closer to Tina so he can see the cameras as well. “Here we go,” he whispers.

The cameras outside the building show Kurt walking to the entrance and stopping right in front of the doors for a moment, as if he’s making sure he’s in the right place. Blaine knows that Curtis Lawrence is different from the real Kurt, and as he watches Kurt from the monitor he can clearly see how. Curtis walks and moves in a more relaxed way than Kurt does as himself -– his gestures are lazier, softer in some way, and even his clothes are more laid-back than what Kurt himself wears to the office. They’re still high fashion, since this is the world of white collar workers with a lot of money to spend on clothes, but they’re not exactly the cutting-edge articles of clothing Blaine is used to seeing on Kurt.

Kurt seemingly takes a deep breath outside the entrance, and then he opens the door and steps in, walking up to the reception desk. Tina quickly switches to the security cameras inside the lobby, and Blaine turns up the volume on the speakers.

“I’m here to see Natalie Arrow?” Kurt says to the woman sitting behind the desk, and even from the camera footage Blaine can see him flashing quick smile that makes the woman duck her head, obviously charmed by the famous Hummel smile.

“Yes sir, just a moment-–” the woman starts, but the voice of another woman stops her.

“No need to call me, Celia, I’m already here.” Natalie Arrow walks across the lobby, stops next to Kurt and offers him her hand. Her eyes seem to give Kurt a curious once-over, and Blaine hopes the few years Kurt –- and therefore Curtis –- has been out of business won’t make her too suspicious. A lot of this case depends on Kurt, and on the way he acts today.

“Curtis Lawrence,” Natalie continues, drawing out the name. “Long time no see. I heard from our mutual acquaintance that you were traveling through Europe.”

Sam turns around to look at Blaine. “Mutual acquaintance?” he repeats, keeping his voice low so he doesn’t disturb the speakers.

Blaine shrugs. “No idea who she’s talking about. Let’s keep it in mind in case it becomes relevant.”

Kurt takes Natalie Arrow’s hand and shakes it. He immediately pushes his hands in his pockets afterwards, and Blaine frowns at the gesture.

“Our mutual acquaintance,” Kurt is saying over the microphone, his voice a little wistful, and Blaine focuses back on the conversation. “I haven’t heard from her in a long time,” Kurt continues. “Just like I haven’t heard from you, Natalie. But you’ve obviously moved up in the world.”

Natalie laughs and looks around the lobby. “Obviously,” she repeats and then pauses, tilting her head at Kurt. “How was Europe?”

“Beautiful,” Kurt answers and grins. “But boring, especially when compared to New York.”

Natalie considers his words. “You were very cryptic in your message, Curtis. Why don’t we take this conversation to my office?” She gestures towards the back of the lobby and slowly takes a step away from Kurt.

“I was hoping you’d suggest that,” Kurt says, his grin widening. “Lead the way.”

Blaine leans closer to Tina as Kurt and Natalie start walking towards the elevators. “Do we have access to the security cameras in her office?”

Tina shakes her head. “Unfortunately, no. The security firm refused to give us access to any of the footages coming from individual offices, and the court order doesn’t cover them. We only have the lobby, the elevators and the open areas on each floor. Corridors and break rooms and such.”

“Okay.” Blaine leans away, resisting the urge to run his fingers through his hair. “We can still hear him, so keep monitoring the elevator and the hallway outside Natalie’s office.” When Tina nods, he turns to look at Sam. “Have you found anything new on Natalie Arrow?”

Sam shrugs. “Nothing we didn’t already know.”

“Let’s keep listening, then.” Blaine pushes his chair away from the monitors, trusting that Tina will let him know if something comes up. He lifts his headphones back over his ears and listens to the way Kurt and Natalie’s voices fill his ears, focuses on the conversation so he can pick up any and all hesitations or slip-ups Natalie Arrow might make.

They are working, and Kurt isn’t exactly himself right now, so it’s almost surprisingly easy not to pay too much attention to the way Kurt’s voice rises and falls, to the almost musical intonation of his words. Blaine does like Kurt’s voice, loves how unique it is, how changeable and still completely under Kurt’s control, but this time he is willing to ignore it. He still has a job to do, after all.

In the end they don’t get much out of the cameras anyway, but when Kurt slips inside the van an hour later he swears that Natalie is a part of the insider trading. He knows her tells, knows the way she works, and he’s certain that what they’re investigating is in some way connected to her. They listen through the recording of the meeting once again, and Kurt points out moments where Natalie hesitated or accidentally gave something away, and when they’re done, Blaine is pretty sure they are on their way to solving the case.

He lets everyone go home after that, even though it’s not that late yet. Sam does love the van and Blaine himself doesn’t mind it anymore, not after years and years of stake-outs and hours spent sitting on the uncomfortable chairs, but everyone else finds it suffocating and stuffy, and the stale air inside it practically makes anyone feel a little more tired than they normally would around this time of the day. It’s no surprise that Tina practically dances out of the van when Blaine tells her to go home.

Blaine gives Kurt a ride home, just like he does almost every day, and as they discuss the case in the car he considers asking Kurt about the mutual acquaintance Natalie mentioned. In the end he decides not to. It doesn’t seem relevant to the case, and if Kurt doesn’t want to volunteer that information, it’s even less relevant. Their relationship is still a careful balance of trust, and Blaine has silently promised himself not to ask Kurt about things that are not relevant to a case or to the terms of Kurt’s deal. If Kurt wants to volunteer something, like those small stories of his childhood, Blaine is more than happy to listen.

But he won’t ask for them.

He goes home, makes dinner for himself and Perry, watches the game for a while, and then, when his mind refuses to stop working, he switches the TV off and sits down at his dining room table, going through the evidence and reports they have on the case so far. Perry settles down next to his feet, falling asleep almost immediately, and Blaine glances at her with a smile when her paws start moving and her muzzle twitching as she dreams. His own eyelids are drooping as well after a few hours, and eventually he pushes the files away, resting his head on his hands and staring out of the dining room window, lost in his thoughts.

His phone starts ringing on the table after a while, and Blaine startles in surprise and glances at the clock. It’s half past eleven, and when he looks down at the phone, he doesn’t recognize the number flashing on the screen. Perry growls quietly and kicks his foot with her paw.

“Fine, fine, I’ll answer it,” Blaine mumbles and lifts the phone to his ear. “Agent Anderson.”

“This is Matthews from the Marshal’s office. Is your CI Kurt Hummel with you right now?”

Blaine straightens up, suddenly more awake. “Um, no. I dropped him off at his apartment a few hours ago. Is everything alright?”

The woman on the other end of the line, apparently the person responsible for Kurt’s tracking anklet, sighs. “Well, you tell me, Agent. Mr. Hummel just stepped outside his radius for a few seconds and then stepped right back in.”

“W-what?” Blaine scrambles to his feet, reaching for his laptop on the other side of the table. Perry rolls over, woken up by the sudden movement, and looks at him from the floor. “Are you sure?” Blaine asks.

“Positive,” Matthews says. “He seems to be heading back to his apartment now, but the data shows him standing right on the edge of his radius for almost thirty minutes until he stepped over and then stepped back in. I understand he has the permission to be outside his radius only when he has an agent with him?”

Blaine clicks the tracking data open on his laptop and waits for the program to load up. He rarely even checks Kurt’s data, because there haven’t been any problems since and before the Gilbert case, and even then it wasn’t Kurt’s fault.

“That’s right,” he answers. “He can go anywhere he wants to as long as me or someone else from the Bureau is with him. But I’m not with him, and neither is anyone else. At least as far as I know.”

Matthews hums. “We have no information about any agents being with him either. It was just a brief step over the perimeter, but I thought I’d let you know since this hasn’t happened before.”

Blaine stares at the data of Kurt’s anklet on his screen, and... There, just a few minutes ago –- the little dot on the map that shows Kurt’s location turns red for five seconds before it moves back inside the radius and turns green again. Blaine plays the same time frame again and again, getting more and more confused every time. Kurt has always stayed inside his radius. Even when he goes out for a walk or “reacquaints himself with the city”, as he once told Blaine, he always stays carefully within the perimeter, skirting the areas where he could accidentally step outside. But now the tracking data clearly shows him walking to a certain spot, standing still for a long while and then stepping outside his radius for a few seconds before he steps back and walks away.

Perry lets out a low-pitched whine and butts her head against Blaine’s calf.

“Agent Anderson? Are you still there?”

Blaine shakes his head when the voice from his phone startles him from his thoughts. “Y-yeah, sorry. I was just watching the tracking data myself. I have no idea what he’s doing out there.”

“Well, I’m afraid that’s your problem. He’s heading back to his apartment now, so I just thought I’d let you know.”

“Yeah, I can see that. I’m sure there’s an explanation for this slip,” Blaine says more to himself than to the Marshal. “Thanks for calling.”

“No problem. Have a nice evening.”

There’s a click on the other end of the line as the call disconnects, but Blaine doesn’t lower his phone from his ear. He doesn’t sit back down, doesn’t react when Perry whines again and nudges his leg more insistently, doesn’t take his eyes off the tracking data on his laptop screen where the green dot is slowly moving towards Kurt’s apartment.

It’s such a small thing, such a momentary slip, and Blaine would love to think that it’s nothing, that this was just some random mistake of Kurt stepping outside his radius by accident, that perhaps he forgot the anklet for a moment, forgot the deal and everything it entails, and that’s all it was. A small mistake. A tiny event in the grand scheme of things where Kurt has never stepped outside his perimeter and has always followed the terms of their deal. Blaine was the one who messed up last time, not Kurt. Kurt seems to actually enjoy his current life, even if it’s probably far from ideal, and he knows that breaking the rules of their deal would bring consequences not only to him but to Blaine as well.

But that’s the problem. In the grand scheme of Kurt Hummel there are no momentary slips. There are no details that don’t matter, no accidents, and when Blaine finally sits down again, his hand unconsciously reaching down to pet Perry’s head, he can’t help but hope his gut instinct and knowledge of Kurt Hummel will be wrong just this once.


	11. Chapter 11

Blaine knows that if there’s one thing that can be said about him, it’s that he always tries to learn from his mistakes. That’s why this time he doesn’t rush into things. He doesn’t call Sam or Tina or even Kurt himself, but instead spends the rest of the night making sure that the tracking data hasn’t been tampered with and that Kurt did actually step outside his radius. He makes several phone calls to people who keep asking him if he ever sleeps, and it all takes several hours, all that time taken away from his normal sleeping schedule -– but he has to make sure before he starts making any speculations.

And even after that, after he’s made sure that this time the tracking data is correct, that there are no unaccountable blips on it; even after that he refuses to speculate too much. There must be an explanation. Kurt will probably explain it all to him the first thing tomorrow, and Blaine won’t accuse him of anything. Not this time.

He still sits in his dining room late into the night, staring at the tracking data and massaging his temples. Even Perry gets tired of it eventually and shuffles into the bedroom on her own, and Blaine can hear the dramatic way she flops down next to his bed all the way to the dining room. It brings a small smile to his lips, but that smile doesn’t warm him like it usually does.

He startles awake some time later, nearly knocking over the chair he’s sitting on in the process. His neck hurts from falling asleep at the dining room table, and his laptop is still open in front of him, the screen gone into sleep mode probably hours and hours ago. Blaine takes his time rubbing his eyes and stretching his shoulders, and it takes him a while to realize that the reason why he woke up in the first place was the sound of his phone bleeping with a new text message.

He grabs his phone and opens the message on the screen, trying to blink the last remnants of sleep from his eyes and make sense of the words.

 

 **From Kurt:**  
_Morning! No need to pick me up today –- I woke up early and am already at the office._

 

As Blaine stares at the sentence, his phone beeps again with another message from Kurt.

 

 **From Kurt:**  
_Also, you should hurry, or I’ll give the coffee I picked up for you to Sam. I’m just saying. :)_

 

That’s it. Completely ordinary messages with no mention of Kurt being outside his radius last night, and Blaine can’t help but frown down at his phone. He would send Kurt an answer or even call him, but it’s late and he should be on his way to the office already. He puts his phone down, looks around the apartment, and notices that Perry has moved to the kitchen and is staring at him from the floor with accusing eyes, as if she’s reminding him that she hasn’t gotten her breakfast yet.

“I’m sorry, girl,” Blaine sighs as he gets up to do his morning chores. “I guess I’m a bit distracted today.”

Kurt isn’t on the 21st floor when Blaine finally makes his way into the office, and Tina tells him that he went downstairs to the storage room to get some files from evidence. There’s a take-away cup of tepid coffee waiting for Blaine on his desk, a post-it note with the words “ _I couldn’t bear to give this to Sam after all_ ” on top it, and Blaine can feel his whole chest constrict under a sudden weight as he reaches for the cup.

He tastes the coffee as he leans against the back wall of the room, and even if the drink is almost cold by now, it’s still exactly the way he likes it, like it always is when Kurt gets him coffee. Blaine has to put the cup down after a few sips, though, because his nerves are already making him jittery enough and he doesn’t need to add caffeine into that mix.

When he looks up after a few minutes of staring at the floor, lost in his thoughts once again, he can see the glass doors opening on the other side of the office space, Kurt slipping in and waving the files he’s holding to Tina. Blaine watches as Tina says something to Kurt, gesturing towards the upper level of the office, and Kurt looks up, meeting Blaine’s gaze across the room.

He smiles at Blaine, gives him a small wave and then turns around to sit behind his own desk.

Blaine stands still, looking out into the office, his stomach in knots. He was so sure that Kurt would come talk to him, that Kurt would be the one to acknowledge whatever happened last night, but Kurt is already opening the files he brought with him and starting to go through them, leaning back in his chair and twirling a pen between his fingers. As if nothing is out of the ordinary.

Blaine drags his hand through his hair (not as gelled as it usually is because he had other things in his mind this morning), pushes himself away from the wall and walks to the small landing outside his office. 

“Kurt?” he calls out, loud enough for Kurt to hear it.

Kurt looks up from the files and lifts his eyebrows in question, and even Tina glances at Blaine over her shoulder.

“Can you come here for a moment?” Blaine says, gesturing towards his office.

Kurt nods, puts the files down on his desk and gets up. Some of the other agents look at him as he walks through the office, and Blaine cringes internally –- he can imagine what they’re thinking. The team has seemed fine after the speech Blaine gave when they arrested Gilbert, but sometimes it still feels like conversation suddenly stops when Blaine walks into the room, or like some of the agents are paying a bit too much attention to the interaction between him and Kurt. No one has said anything bad about Kurt since the speech, no one has given him any hard time, but two of the younger agents did ask for a transfer after Gilbert was arrested, and Blaine knows that the office gossip is still there, just simmering beneath the surface.

And since he’s the leader of his team, the only thing he can see is the surface. He can only keep guessing about what’s happening behind it.

Kurt jogs up the stairs to the upper level and stops next to Blaine. “Is this about the case?” he asks with a smile. “Because I think I may have an idea about that. Natalie was always more of a fence than a person who digs up information, so I’m thinking she probably has an accomplice inside the company who-–”

“It’s not about the case,” Blaine interrupts. He can see a few agents staring at them from the corner of his eye. “Can we... Let’s go into my office, okay?”

“Okay?” Kurt says, confused, but he does follow Blaine into his office.

Blaine closes the door behind them and even considers drawing the curtains all the way over the glass wall, but that would just raise more suspicion, so he lets them be. Kurt is looking at him with his eyebrows raised, and Blaine doesn’t really know what to say when Kurt seems to have no idea what this is about.

“I... I got a call from the Marshals last night,” he starts, crossing his arms over his chest nervously.

Kurt sits down in a chair, looking up at Blaine in confusion. “And?”

“You do know that you stepped outside your radius last night?” Blaine asks, the knots in his stomach tightening.

Kurt blinks, and then his lips turn up into a sheepish grin. He lets out a laugh and leans back in his chair. “Oh god, I didn’t realize they would actually call you about one step. I’m so sorry, Blaine.”

Blaine sighs, his arms falling back down from his chest. Kurt is laughing; obviously it was nothing. “Yes, they even call me about one step,” he confirms with a small smile, making a move to sit down as well. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have probably even noticed it. What were you doing out there anyway?”

“Oh, there’s this really nice restaurant that’s right outside my radius, and I’ve been dying to go there.” Kurt shrugs. “I was basically just enjoying the view and inhaling the smell of good food. I must have gotten caught in the moment and taken a step too close, that's all.”

Blaine stops, his body freezing mid-movement.

He knows that there actually is a restaurant right where Kurt crossed the perimeter, he checked it himself last night. But the area is still definitely not a part of Kurt’s usual walks; Kurt has described his routes to him more than once, has even asked Blaine to accompany him a few times, and Blaine knows what areas of the city are the dearest to Kurt. The street where he was standing last night for a long time is definitely not one of those areas.

There’s more, too –- the tone of Kurt’s voice, the bright grin still playing on his lips, and the way his eyes are shining a little more, his movements even more controlled than usually. Blaine has seen it all before, from surveillance cameras and during undercover missions, has watched Kurt use the same small gestures and expressions around dozens, probably even hundreds of people -- but never around himself. Never in front of Blaine.

Blaine takes a step back, a shiver running up his spine. “You’re lying to me.”

“What?” Kurt frowns. “Of course I’m not lying to you, Blaine. I really do want to visit that restaurant. Actually –- you should come with me. That way I wouldn’t break any rules and-–”

Blaine takes another step away from Kurt, his back colliding with the wall behind him. The knots in his stomach are so tight that he feels like throwing up. “And now you’re trying to con me?” he asks, his voice breaking on the last word, his hands suddenly starting to tremble. “I thought you said you wouldn’t lie to me?”

It’s been such a precious thing for him, so important; to know that Kurt wouldn’t lie to him, that he may avoid certain topics or let Blaine draw certain conclusions, but he wouldn’t outright lie to him. Except Blaine knows the signs, knows how to read Kurt, and he can tell when Kurt is telling the truth, when he’s himself, when it’s just Kurt and not the con-man inside of him.

And that’s not happening right now.

Kurt’s frown deepens, but it’s like a mask, like a beautiful act covering up the truth, and Blaine is surprised at how hard it hits him -– how painful it is to realize that Kurt is lying to him, after all they’ve been through and after all the progress they’ve made. His insides are twisting and turning, and he wraps his arms around himself, trying to keep himself together, staring at Kurt because he doesn’t know where else to look.

“Blaine. What are you talking about?” Kurt stands up slowly, tilting his head, and god, even that innocent gesture looks so different now, and it _is_ different, it’s different from all the other times Kurt has tilted his head at Blaine. “I’m not lying-–”

“Stop it!” Blaine exclaims. He glances towards the closed door and lowers his voice. “For god’s sake, Kurt, stop lying to me! Do you think I don’t know your tells? Do you think I can’t see it when you’re lying to me? When you’re trying to _con_ me?”

Kurt stares at him, and suddenly the mask melts away from his face, the unnatural brightness disappearing from his eyes, as if he realizes what’s happening. In a flash his expression is honest again and so desperate, so scared and surprised.

“Oh god. Oh my god. Blaine, I swear I didn’t...” he starts, horrified.

“You said you would never lie to me,” Blaine can’t help but say, tightening his arms around himself, his body feeling cold. “And I was so sure that we were actually working out. That this partnership was starting to work out, for both of us, and I even felt like...”

He snaps his mouth shut, realizing what he was about to say, what he was about to confess. Kurt looks both terrified and incredulous, as if he can’t believe what’s happening, and Blaine takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, even if it feels like something they’ve been working on for a long time is crumpling right in front of their eyes.

“I thought we were friends,” he continues, his own voice sounding thin in his ears. “I trusted you, Kurt, and I thought you were starting to trust me too, that if you couldn’t tell me something you would at least tell me so and not come up with lies.”

“Blaine, I’m so sorry,” Kurt says, taking a step towards him, his hand reaching out for him. “I just... I didn’t realize I was...”

“You didn’t realize you were lying to me even though you said you wouldn’t?” Blaine says wearily. “I don’t mind you not telling me everything, Kurt. I get that. I get that you can’t trust me completely yet, I get that I screwed up at first with that Gilbert case-–”

“Blaine-–” Kurt starts, taking another step, his eyes wide and pleading.

“–-but when it comes to our deal, to your radius, to the very rules that have made this partnership possible... Your first instinct is to suddenly lie to me.” Blaine pauses, dragging his hand down his face. “You know, there are people in this office who think that you’ve been conning me the whole time. They think you’re just using me to get out of prison, and I’ve been so happy ever since you took this deal because at least I know that they’re all wrong. I know that you’re not using me, that you trust me at least a little and won’t lie to me. But you just did, and I... I don’t know what to think anymore.”

Kurt swallows and looks away. It’s such a small thing -– just one step over the perimeter, one little lie to cover it up –- but at the same time it’s not. There are no small, irrelevant things when it comes to Kurt. Blaine has trusted Kurt, has fallen in love with him and believed that things are working out for both of them. This is like a step backwards, to the times when Kurt was just another case and Blaine was just another agent. Except Kurt has never been just another case, and Blaine has always, ever since the Songbird file landed on his desk, tried to do what’s best for Kurt because he knows that Kurt is better than the cons and lies and stolen paintings.

He thought they were friends now. That Kurt was willing to give him a chance.

“Why?” he asks after a moment.

Kurt’s head snaps up. “Why what?”

“Why did you lie to me?”

Kurt opens his mouth and closes it, opens it again and closes it again. “I...” he finally starts, hesitating. “I don’t know. I just... It just happened.”

Blaine sighs. “I know you have things you don’t want to talk about, Kurt. And if this is one of them, you could’ve just... You could’ve just said so, and I would’ve trusted you.”

Kurt looks at him. “But?” he ventures, sounding almost scared.

“But instead you lied to me. You tried to con me.” Blaine takes a shuddering breath. “Do you understand how... How hurtful that is?”

“I’m so sorry,” Kurt whispers. He extends his hand towards Blaine, his fingers trembling, but Blaine can’t reach back, not right now. It stings too much.

“Can you just... go now?” he says in a quiet voice.

Kurt’s hand drops down.

“Tell Tina what you were going to tell me about Natalie Arrow,” Blaine continues. “We’ve still got a case to work on. I just... I need to think.”

Kurt bites his lip but nods, walking slowly backwards to the door. He reaches for the handle and stops, lifting his eyes one more time to look at Blaine. “I didn’t mean to...” he starts.

“It’s okay,” Blaine says and gives Kurt a polite smile, the one he hides behind when things go wrong for him and he has no idea what to do, when Cooper doesn’t call him back and his superiors refuse to trust his skills. When someone breaks his heart and he tries not to let it show.

Kurt immediately turns away from him and presses the handle down. “I’m sorry, Blaine,” he says and then slips out the door.

“I’m sorry too,” Blaine says to his back.

The door clicks closed behind Kurt. Blaine watches through the glass wall as Kurt straightens his posture and then slowly walks down the stairs, going straight to his own desk, smiling at Tina on his way. Tina seems to smile back at him, as if she doesn’t see how strained Kurt’s smile looks like, how tense his shoulders are, and Blaine has to look away.

He usually thinks the glass wall of his office is quite nice –- because of it he can see to the lower level of the office space from his own office, can watch how Tina and Sam tease each other and see how the awkward flirting between two of the probies is progressing. It also helps in other ways: his team can see when he’s busy, they can catch his attention without making the trip to the upper level, and of course it just makes his office feel a little more spacious, a little more open to everyone.

But now the glass wall gives him a straight view to Kurt’s desk, to the way Kurt is completely focused on his files with his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against the surface of his desk, and Blaine hates it, he hates that he made Kurt look like that, he hates that Kurt made him feel like this, he hates that Kurt lied to him and that everything’s a mess when things were going so well just less than twenty-four hours ago.

 

\---

 

They keep working on the case for the next couple of days, and Blaine and Kurt act perfectly neutral around each other, only discussing the case and anything related to it. There are no inside jokes, no invites to lunch, no private meetings in the conference room where they make sense of the case and compare stories about different crimes over Chinese take-out. Even Tina and Sam seem to notice there’s something wrong -– Blaine catches both of them looking at him and Kurt in confusion more than once, but they don’t ask about it, as if they can sense how fragile everything is.

Blaine still drives Kurt home at the end of day, just like he did before, but the car rides are so quiet that it’s almost suffocating. Kurt stares out of the window, only speaking when he gets out of the car in front of his loft and says, “Thanks for the ride.” When they stop at red lights, Blaine often opens his mouth to say something, anything to break the oppressing silence, but what could he say? He can’t say that it’s okay when it clearly isn’t, when Kurt flat-out lied to him about something that Blaine should’ve reported to his superiors but still didn’t. He wants to ask for reasons, but he can’t do that either, not when he has always been so careful about giving Kurt the chance to tell him himself, and he’s not going to stop that now, not even after what happened.

He wants to say he’s sorry, swear that they can just forget about it and go back to the way things were, but he knows he can’t. Not yet. Not with Kurt sitting next to him inside the car, completely shut off and feeling more distant than ever before. Blaine has to wait for Kurt to be ready, for Kurt to make the first move, just so he can be sure that Kurt still wants whatever it is between them to work.

The purely professional, all-business-and-nothing-else way they’re around each other is probably what the relationship between an agent and a CI is supposed to be like. Blaine has read the manuals and case books; he knows that agents aren’t supposed to get attached to their criminal informants, and that they should always remember they’re dealing with a former criminal who could turn against the Bureau at any possible moment. But Blaine has always thought those manuals and pieces of advice were completely ridiculous, and following their rules would be an insult to both him and Kurt.

That’s why realizing that he and Kurt have fallen into their pattern, into the pattern of stuffy manuals and vague rules, is exactly the problem. Because Blaine has always been too attached to Kurt, and now he just... misses him. He misses the early morning visits when he’s still half-asleep and Kurt tries to say no to breakfast but still accepts the invitation. He misses hanging out at Kurt’s loft or at his own apartment, misses their late night conversations, misses the way Kurt always smiles at Perry, misses the view of the city from the large window in Kurt’s loft. He misses the small smiles Kurt always gives to him, misses the way Kurt gets excited about art and undercover missions, misses those random little stories Kurt started to tell him.

He just misses... everything. And it hurts, but he can’t be the one who breaks the silence this time. Kurt was the one who tried to con him after he promised he wouldn’t, and a small part of Blaine has to wonder if this was just a question of time, if Kurt has never actually been as invested in this partnership as Blaine. He doesn’t want to believe it, and he doesn’t believe it -– but he can’t help but wonder, especially since Kurt hasn’t tried to reach out for him anymore and is only walking on eggshells around him, watching his words and his expressions more than ever before.

So Blaine waits.

They do make some progress on the case, despite everything, and five days later they’ve gathered enough evidence to be absolutely sure that Natalie Arrow and her accomplice from the company are behind the insider trading, as well as a few other older crimes. They have practically everything they need; they only need Kurt to meet with Natalie one last time as Curtis, to hopefully get the final evidence against her, and then they can arrest both her and her accomplice.

Natalie and Kurt have arranged their meeting to take place outside the company’s premises, on an empty construction site that the company owns of all places, and Blaine’s team is in the van again, close to the site but not too close. The place is rather suspicious, so they’re all even more alert than usually, and Blaine has tried to push all the issues between him and Kurt out of his mind for the time being. He can’t afford distractions right now.

They don’t have cameras this time, only the microphone and tracker Kurt is wearing, and Blaine feels nervous, his hands twitching and his heart beating loudly inside his chest. He normally gives Kurt the whole “ _please be careful out there_ ” speech before any undercover assignments, usually met with Kurt rolling his eyes in fond amusement, but this time Kurt slipped out of the van without a glance back at Blaine, without a word, and Blaine practically choked on air, the knots in his stomach tightening again.

Blaine is staring at the equipment in front of him, his heart in his throat as they wait for Natalie to appear, when he suddenly realizes that he can’t go on like this anymore. _They_ can’t go on like this anymore. They need to fix this, they need to talk about everything, honestly and without any pretenses, and find out where they stand. If something goes wrong with things between him and Kurt like this, he doesn’t think he would ever...

Sam interrupts Blaine’s thoughts, sighing happily next to him. “Man, I love-–”

“We know,” both Blaine and Tina say at the same time.

Sam startles and looks at them, offended. “Geez, fine.” His gaze shifts to Blaine after a moment, and he seems to notice the way Blaine is clenching his hands. “Dude, chill. Everything will be fine.”

Blaine pinches the bridge of his nose. “I really hope so. I just... I just have a bad feeling about this.”

Tina scoffs. “You’ve been having a bad feeling about something for the last few days. You and Kurt both have.”

“Tina, shut up,” Sam snaps. He hesitates and then turns to look at Blaine. “I mean... Everything is alright with you guys, right?”

Blaine sighs, staring at the speakers in front of him. He can hear the soft shuffle of Kurt’s feet through the microphone, and his insides are twisting and turning in every way. “I don’t know,” he finally admits. “It’s...”

“She’s here,” Kurt’s quiet voice comes through the speakers.

Blaine straightens his back, pushing his feelings away. “Okay, pay attention,” he calls out to his team. “Remember that today’s code is ‘how thoughtful of you’. Kurt says that and we move in immediately.”

Everyone nods and then falls silent, listening to the speakers. There’s only background noise for a long moment, but then Kurt’s voice is back, sounding like Curtis again and not like himself.

“An odd choice for a meeting place,” Kurt says cheerily over the microphone.

There’s the muffled sound of heels clicking against a concrete floor, and then Natalie’s voice. “Not so odd when you realize that we won’t be interrupted here.”

“True,” Kurt admits. “Well, we might as well get this over with. As you know, I’m very interested in the-–”

“Curtis. Can I ask you a question first?” Natalie interrupts.

Everyone in the van straightens up, surprised by the contemplative tone of her voice. Blaine leans closer to the speakers, furrowing his brows, and even Tina lifts her hands away from the keyboard in front of her.

“Sure. Go ahead,” Kurt says, and Blaine can hear the barely concealed surprise in his voice as well.

“It’s just that I have to make sure about something,” Natalie says slowly. “Before we can get on with our business.”

Blaine’s eyes widen, and he unconsciously reaches for his gun. Oh crap. He knows that tone of voice -– and as if in answer, Kurt’s sharp intake of breath sounds over the speakers, making everyone jump.

“How long have you been working for the FBI, Curtis?” Natalie says sweetly.

Blaine stands up, automatically starting towards the van door, but Sam stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Blaine, stop, he hasn’t said the code yet,” he reminds in a low voice, pushing Blaine back. “It’s Kurt, he can still figure something out.”

“You brought a gun to our meeting,” Kurt suddenly says over the microphone, his voice sounding more Kurt than Curtis, and Blaine freezes when his mind makes sense of the words. “I forgot that you had a thing for guns.”

Natalie laughs. “I know you never liked them, Curtis. Or, well, I suppose I should call you Kurt.”

Sam’s hand tightens around Blaine’s shoulder. Everyone in the van is staring at the speakers.

“You know my real name,” Kurt says, his voice surprisingly stable even though there is most likely a gun pointed at him. “How... How thoughtful of you.”

Blaine wrenches himself free of Sam’s grip and pushes the van door open, not even listening as Tina yells after him, “Blaine, stop, you’re not wearing your vest!”

The van isn’t parked that far away from the construction site, but Blaine still feels like the distance is too long. Kurt doesn’t have a gun, he doesn’t have any protective gear or official training for situations like this, and Blaine runs as fast as he can, pulling out his gun from its holster on his way, thankful that he memorized the area beforehand. He can distantly hear Sam shouting orders behind him, probably telling someone to call back-up just in case, and Blaine knows that he’s the boss, that he should be the one to stay back and make sure everything works despite the sudden turn of events –- but it’s _Kurt_. He can’t stay back.

His feet hit the uneven ground of the construction site in a rushed rhythm until he slows down, turns one last corner and skids to a halt. Kurt is standing in the middle of a small open area, his hands carefully raised in the air, and opposite him is Natalie Arrow, the gun in her hands pointing straight at Kurt.

“Drop your weapon!” Blaine orders, taking a step closer as he raises his own gun. Years of experience have made his hands and voice steady, even if his heart is practically hammering against his chest from fear.

Natalie startles a little and looks at Blaine, her lips turning up into a surprised smile. “Oh, so you did have back-up after all,” she says to Kurt, her gun staying still. “Hello, agent.”

Kurt doesn’t turn to look at Blaine, doesn’t lower his hands, but he does take a step backwards, closer to Blaine, and Blaine can see how calm he looks, how his hands aren’t even shaking. “Please tell me you have a gun as well,” he says to Blaine, trying to sound almost bored.

Blaine steadies his gun, a small smile playing on his lips, and steps forward so that he is effectively blocking Kurt. “I do,” he says, keeping his eyes on Natalie. “Lower your weapon, Ms. Arrow.”

Natalie sighs and cocks her own gun. “His gun isn’t the one you should be worried about, Kurt.”

“Oh, I know,” Kurt replies, and Blaine can see him shrug out of the corner of his eye. “And I’m not the one _you_ should be worried about, not when there’s a federal gun pointing at you. He’s a really good shot, by the way.”

“I’m still not worried,” Natalie says. She slowly, deliberately, moves her gun from Kurt to Blaine, and Blaine hears Kurt make a small noise behind him. “I’m a pretty good shot as well,” Natalie points out.

Blaine’s not exactly fond of guns either, and he will do anything he can to avoid ending up in situations like this -- he prefers talking and being sensible, and if Natalie would just drop her gun, no one would have to fire any shots today. That doesn’t seem to be happening though, since Natalie only tightens her grip on her gun and keeps it aimed at Blaine.

“Lower your weapon,” Blaine repeats, emphasizing each word. “We have enough evidence to put you away for a long time for conspiracy and insider trading, and shooting an agent will do nothing but add a new bullet point to your list of criminal charges.”

“That charge list is already quite long,” Kurt adds from behind Blaine. “Thanks to me, you know, so you should really just lower your weapon and get this all over with already.”

Blaine tries not to smile.

“What makes you think I can’t just shoot you both and run? You should know how good I am at running, Curtis.” Natalie sneers when she says Kurt’s alias’s name, and she momentarily turns to look at Kurt, her gun still pointing at Blaine. Blaine could probably shoot her in the leg right there and then, but after that she might still shoot at them, and he can’t take that risk.

“Oh please,” Kurt scoffs. “I’m the one who’s good at running.”

Natalie raises her eyebrows. “You’re the one working for the FBI.”

“Because sometimes you realize you’ve run enough,” Kurt says, his voice even, and Blaine almost looks at him over his shoulder, almost -– there’s something in Kurt’s voice, something barely noticeable but still there, something that makes Blaine’s heart beat faster for other reasons than the pure fear and adrenaline that have been pumping through his veins for the last few minutes.

Natalie gives out a laugh. “We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?” she says and turns back to look at Blaine.

“No-–” Kurt starts, sounding frantic all of a sudden.

Blaine barely has time to realize what is happening when he suddenly feels Kurt’s hands gripping at the back of his jacket, pulling him away. He instinctively stumbles towards the movement, trying to keep his own gun steady -– but then he hears a shot, and he knows it’s not from his own gun.

Kurt yells, and Blaine feels something hit his left side, a little above his belt, making him stumble even more until he trips over his own feet and falls down to the ground, pain exploding on his side. There are more voices, more shouting, someone who sounds a lot like Sam ordering Natalie to put her gun down now, and then there are rushed footsteps, people running past Blaine, but he barely notices them. All he can focus on is Kurt, on finding out that Kurt is okay because he has to be okay, there's no other choice, he  _has to_ \--

Kurt’s face is suddenly above his, leaning over him, and Blaine blinks up at him. Kurt looks okay, thank goodness -– he doesn’t look hurt or like he’s in pain, just paler than usual, and his eyes are searching Blaine’s face, wide and scared and worried. Blaine frowns and opens his mouth to say something, but then Kurt presses his hand against Blaine’s side, and Blaine gasps, trying to curl away from the pain.

“Oh my god, Blaine,” Kurt whispers, pressing more insistently with his hand, forcing Blaine to stay still. “Don’t move, okay, don’t you dare move, I’m sure Tina called an ambulance already-–”

Blaine can feel sweat breaking out on his forehead, his side feels unnaturally warm, and he looks up at Kurt, not really understanding what’s going on -– _shock, you’re going into shock_ , his brain supplies –- and then he remembers the gunshot.

“I was hit?” he manages to ask, staring at Kurt confusedly.

“Yes, you idiot,” Kurt laughs, but his voice is worried and Blaine could swear there are tears glistening in his eyes. “So stay still, I have no idea how badly you were hit. There’s just a lot of blood and I have no idea what...”

Blaine winces, his eyelids starting to close. He hasn’t been sleeping that well ever since what happened between him and Kurt, and suddenly he feels tired, like he could sleep for a week. He can hear Tina yelling something in the distance, and Kurt’s hand is a steadying pressure against his side. Another hand cups his cheek carefully all of a sudden, the skin so soft against his face that the person the hand belongs to must be Kurt, and Blaine feels his lips turning up into a smile.

He’s missed this. He’s missed Kurt.

“Blaine?” Kurt asks. His voice sounds scared, but his thumb is stroking soothingly over Blaine’s cheek, so it can’t be that bad.

“I missed you,” Blaine breathes out before he lets his eyes slip closed all the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I'm sorry?


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another interlude from Kurt's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually just the first half of this chapter, but I’m posting it on its own because I didn’t want to make you wait too long after that cliffhanger. The next part, still from Kurt’s POV, will hopefully be finished by the end of next week.
> 
> Also, just in case, this part does mention Finn.

_A WEEK AGO:_

Natalie Arrow shakes his hand, talking about their mutual acquaintance at the same time, and Kurt can feel her slip a small piece of paper in his hand. When he withdraws his hand he immediately pushes it inside his pocket, dropping the paper there and hoping that Blaine isn’t watching the surveillance footage too closely right then.

For the rest of the meeting he keeps itching to take out the paper and read it, but he knows he can’t. Not when he doesn’t know what it’s about, not until he’s done with what he has come here to do and is back in his own loft, with no one to see him.

Blaine drives him home after the mission, and Kurt honestly thinks about mentioning the paper, thinks about taking it out there and then, but he doesn’t know whether it’s related to the case or not –- so he talks about the case with Blaine, makes theories and smiles at him, all the while with an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

When he’s inside his apartment, he finally fishes the piece of paper from his pocket, straightening it out against a table. It’s just a time and an address, nothing else, written with a vaguely familiar handwriting on a sheet from a generic notepad.

It could be a trap. It could be anything.

Several hours later Kurt is standing at the given address in a street corner, looking around. It’s late and the wind feels chilly against his cheeks, but there’s a restaurant opposite him and it’s still open, the delicious aroma of good food wafting through the air. Kurt squares his shoulders against the wind and glances at his phone to check the time. Whoever the message was from is late. A few people walk past him, but he doesn’t recognize them, and he’s just about to give up when he sees a woman walk out of the restaurant, her hips swaying, and Kurt knows who she is before she even opens her mouth and calls out to him.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she drawls, stepping into the light and stopping a few feet away from Kurt.

“Mutual acquaintance,” Kurt mutters to himself and shakes his head before meeting the woman’s eyes. “I can’t believe you’re still in touch with Natalie Arrow, Santana.”

Santana grins and shrugs her shoulders lightly. “What, our break-up was friendly enough. We talk, every now and then, and the last time we did she let it slip that our old friend Curtis Lawrence was back in town.” She tilts her head in a way that Kurt knows too well. “Imagine my surprise.”

“Last I heard you were doing a lot more than just talking with Natalie,” Kurt counters. He had a hunch that the note was from Santana – she is basically the only mutual acquaintance he and Natalie have –- but seeing her right here, looking the same she did the last time he saw her, is still a bit disconcerting.

“That was over four years ago,” Santana says, as if she's read his mind. “Before you went to prison. Why didn’t you tell me you got out, Kurt?” She rocks on her high heels, crossing her arms over her chest.

Kurt sighs and looks away. “Because I didn’t technically get out.”

“Oh, I know. You made a deal with the FBI and got put on a leash to help them catch other people just like you.” Santana steps into his personal space, her eyes shining in the light of a nearby streetlamp. “Like I said –- why didn’t you tell me, Kurt? I thought we were friends.”

Kurt stops, feeling like his heart just jumped to his throat. “How do you know about my deal with the FBI?” he asks pointedly. If Santana knows about it, there must be other people who know about it as well, perhaps even other criminals, and all the undercover assignments he has could be-–

“Relax, Hummel, it’s not common knowledge,” Santana says, flipping her hair from her shoulder. “Let’s just say that Natalie isn’t the only one I’ve kept in contact with from our old lives.” She smirks. “And that cops can be surprisingly chatty when you give them a few drinks. But you still didn’t tell me why I had to find about you being out of prison from someone else.”

“Sorry,” Kurt says, playing with the sleeve of his coat. His life in prison was lonely and boring, and after he took Blaine’s deal he’s been too busy, too excited or too... too charmed by Blaine to think about his old friends. “It’s just... It’s been complicated, and I didn’t think you’d want to see me if I’m working with the FBI,” he explains.

Santana scoffs. “Come on, we’re still friends, no matter what you do. Besides, I’ve basically given up the life of crime as well.” She gestures at the restaurant behind her. “I’m the live musical entertainment of that place, if you can believe it. Santana Lopez sings, five nights a week. I’m on my break right now.”

Kurt lifts his eyebrows, looking from her to the restaurant and back again. Santana talks as if it’s not a big deal, but Kurt can see the pleased curve of her mouth and the relaxed way she’s standing, both sure signs that she actually likes her current life. “That’s... That’s amazing, San,” he says, meaning it as well. “I’m really happy for you.”

Santana shrugs, but the smile keeps playing on her lips. “It’s nice. I mean, conning people and stealing things was fun as well, but I figured I can’t exactly do that for the rest of my life. Right?”

“Right,” Kurt repeats, scuffing his shoe against the pavement. He thinks about the way Blaine looks at him, the way Blaine always seems to see something else in him besides the con and the criminal. It makes him feel like there actually is something else in him, something that he hasn’t thought about in a long time. And if Santana has managed to leave it all behind, even if she was never in as deep as he was...

“What about you then?” Santana asks, looking him up and down. “You look the same, but I’m guessing this FBI gig isn’t a permanent one?”

Kurt shrugs, feeling like he should downplay his current life. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m basically taking it one day at a time for now.”

Santana nods, and then hesitates, showing a rare glimpse of thoughtfulness not a lot of people get to see. She loosens her arms, and Kurt knows that look, remembers it from high school and from those months and years after high school, when Santana acted like herself but still sometimes just stopped to look at him like that, like she was trying to arrange her words a little more kindly than usually.

“Have you found out anything new about your-–” she starts, her voice quiet and careful.

“No, Santana, I haven’t,” Kurt interrupts her, his own voice harsh, and crosses his arms over his chest, looking away. He knew this was coming, but it doesn’t mean he’s ready or happy about it.

“What about Finn?” Santana continues, trying to look into his eyes.

“Nothing new there either. When I escaped from prison I thought...” Kurt trails off when he remembers the empty apartment, remembers being so sure that Finn was going to be there, only to realize that he missed him by hours, that his brother was out of the country already and he had no way to reach him anymore.

Santana frowns. “You haven’t given up, though, have you?”

“Of course I haven’t!” Kurt exclaims angrily, turning to look at her, tightening his arms around himself for protection. “How could I, when sometimes it’s the only thing that I can...” He stops, swallowing and blinking the sudden tears from his eyes. He’s not going to cry, not right now, not in front of Santana when the last time he saw her was years ago and some things he wished had changed by now still haven’t.

“I haven’t given up, Santana,” he continues, hearing how defeated his own voice sounds, “but there’s just nothing new to find. Nothing.”

Santana’s lips turn into a grin and she raises her eyebrows suggestively. “You could ask help from your new agent friend...”

“No.” Kurt immediately shakes his head. “I’m not bringing Blaine into this mess.” It’s his mess, his problem, his past, and he’s going to deal with it on his own, even if he sometimes feels like telling Blaine everything, just laying it all in front of him and watching what he’d do with it. But that’s not going to happen. At least not anytime soon.

Santana’s grin widens, turning sly. “Oh, so he’s Blaine already? First name basis, impressive, Hummel. With your skills I’m sure you could charm him to do whatever you want him to do-–”

“Stop it, it’s not like that,” Kurt snaps. Trust Santana to go from understanding to annoying in the span of seconds.

Santana laughs, lifting her hands in a placating gesture. “Then tell me what it's like, working with Blainey-boy?” She draws out the name, somehow managing to make it sound both ridiculous and dirty.

Kurt sighs, running his hand through his hair and deciding to be honest. Santana would call him out if he wasn’t anyway; she’s one of the few people besides Blaine who has always managed to read him too well. “It’s... different. He gave me a chance when I thought I had nothing left, and I took it.”

“Wait, hold on a moment.” Santana leans towards him, lowering her voice when a few people walk past them on the otherwise quiet street corner. “Are you saying that you _chose_ the deal? Why on earth would you do that? I though you liked being a con-man.”

“I did, for a while, because it seemed like the only thing I could do.” Kurt shifts on his feet, looking past Santana at the restaurant behind her, at the lights shining from its windows. “But now... I think I want to be something else. Someone else.” He stops and looks away, saying the next words in a quieter voice, surprising even himself when they come out. “I... I want to be the person Blaine sees when he looks at me. He just... He looks at me in this way that makes me feel like there’s more to me than this, like I could be myself again. And he makes me feel like it’s actually possible, like that person is still there, underneath all these crimes and cons and aliases.”

Santana’s eyes soften. “You miss it?”

Kurt doesn’t have to ask what she means. “Of course I do. I didn’t exactly think my life would turn like this when I first came to New York.”

“Maybe you should think about telling this to that Blaine guy then.” Santana shrugs. “Maybe he could help.”

“Oh, no.” Kurt shakes his head. “I mean, I think we’re friends, but I don’t... I’m not going to tell him things like that. He’s still my handler.”

“Oh my god, that sounds so dirty,” Santana cackles. Then she suddenly sobers, pointing a finger at Kurt. “Wait. Wait wait wait. You _like_ him. You like this fed!”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Santana...”

“Oh my god, you do like him!” she exclaims, reaching out to grab his hand. “Holy crap, Hummel, do you have any idea how long it’s been since I last got the chance to gossip about relationships with someone? The other workers at that restaurant are complete morons, seriously.” She tugs at his arm. “Come on, I’m buying you a drink and then you’re going to tell me everything about your new favorite federal boytoy.”

“No, San, there are so many things wrong in that sentence that I don’t even...” Kurt starts, but then Santana pulls his hand more strongly, a grin on her face, and he unconsciously takes one step forward with his left foot -– and suddenly a loud beeping noise echoes around the street corner, the sound startling both of them and making Santana let go of Kurt’s hand in surprise.

“What is that?” she asks over the noise, looking around.

It takes barely a few seconds, but then Kurt remembers his anklet, and when he looks down he can see that the normally green light on it is blinking with an angry shade of red over his shoe, the beeps sounding in time with the blinking. He quickly steps back, stumbling a little with the movement. The light immediately flicks back to green, and the sound stops.

“My... my radius,” Kurt explains, still staring at his anklet. He completely forgot about it, about the edges of his radius, about his current life that is so different from the life he had when he last saw Santana and also from the life he wants to have. It’s like a bucket of cold water, reminding him of where and who he is. “I stepped outside my radius,” he says, more to himself than to anyone else.

“Kurt?” Santana asks, taking a step towards him.

“I have to go, San,” Kurt says, lifting his head and looking at her. “I... I don’t think you should stay in contact with Natalie anymore, okay? Trust me. Just in case.”

“Kurt, what the hell are you talking about?” Santana tries to reach out for him again, but Kurt takes several steps away from her, and her hand only touches air.

“I have to go,” Kurt repeats, trying to sound sorry because he is sorry, he would love to hang out with Santana and pretend that everything’s the way he wants it to be, but he can’t. Santana has gotten out of this life, has an actual job and is free to go wherever she wants, and it’s all something that Kurt wants as well –- but he also knows he can’t have it back. “Don’t be a stranger?” he adds, turning his back to her.

“Kurt!” Santana calls out after him, but Kurt is already walking away, glancing at his anklet every now and then.

The light stays green.

 

\---

 

_NOW:_

Blaine opens his eyes again in the ambulance, looks around for a moment until his eyes land on Kurt, and then he says in a dazed voice, “You’re here.”

Kurt glances at the paramedic sitting on Blaine’s other side. She lifts her head and gives Kurt a small nod, as if she’s telling him to keep talking and keep Blaine awake until they get to the hospital, and Kurt looks away from the blood stains on Blaine’s white shirt, focuses his eyes on Blaine’s face and squeezes his clammy hand gently where his own fingers are wrapped around it.

“I’m here,” he promises, and Blaine’s eyes soften in a way that looks weirdly focused, like he isn’t going into shock anymore and knows exactly what’s happening. “Have I told you about that one time when I allegedly snuck into an actual European castle?” Kurt continues, changing the subject.

Blaine furrows his brows in confusion and gives a small shake of his head. “I... don’t think so?”

“Good. Because I’m going to tell you about it right now,” Kurt says decisively.

Blaine’s lips quirk up in a small smile.

For the rest of the ride Kurt keeps telling Blaine stories about his alleged crimes, even throwing in a few adventures that didn’t happen to him personally, just to keep Blaine’s attention away from the paramedics and the wound on his side. He squeezes Blaine’s hand a little more tightly every time the ambulance hits a bump on the road and Blaine winces in pain, his jaw clenching like he’s trying not to cry out. Kurt’s own heart has taken residence somewhere near his throat, but he doesn’t let it show, not right now, not when he doesn’t want to upset Blaine in any way.

When they get to the hospital Blaine is immediately taken away, and Kurt is told to wait behind in the waiting room. The paramedics said that the wound isn’t hopefully as bad as it looked like, but when Kurt sits down on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs he realizes that his fingers are trembling, as if they started to feel cold as soon as he let go of Blaine’s hand. The tremors are running up and down his arms, and he has to go wash his hands with hot water just to make them go away.

Kurt has never really liked hospitals that much.

Tina and Sam arrive some time later, wordlessly sitting down next to him. Tina keeps wringing her hands every few minutes, but Sam looks surprisingly calm, stretching his neck and glancing at the clock on the wall opposite them only once or twice. He’s probably used to things like this, even if Kurt has always been under the impression that the White Collar Division is regarded as the most boring and non-violent division in all of FBI. But Blaine was weirdly calm in the ambulance as well, so perhaps agents with several years of experience know how to deal with shootings and hospital visits. Kurt isn’t sure if he could ever learn to deal with them, even though his career of crime wasn’t always exactly a picnic either –- but he can’t get used to this, not when he can still feel the phantom stains of Blaine’s blood on his hands.

They sit in silence for a long time, the minutes ticking by, people coming and going. Eventually a small child on the other side of the waiting room starts crying softly, and Kurt clears his throat, trying to think of something to say to break the uncomfortable quietness, to come up with something that could keep his mind occupied until they learn more about Blaine’s state.

“This isn’t his first time, you know,” Sam says suddenly.

Kurt turns to look at him, tilting his head in confusion. “First time what?”

“First time he’s been injured in the line of duty,” Sam explains, smoothing his hands over his thighs. “I mean, of course it’s hard every time and it’d be better if he hadn’t even ended up here, but I’m sure Blaine will be fine.” He pauses and looks at Kurt. “He’s going to be fine, Kurt.”

Kurt nods, not really knowing how to answer that without his voice breaking halfway through. “Has anyone called Blaine’s parents? Or his brother?” he asks instead. He doesn’t know much about Blaine’s family, but he knows that if he was the one who had been shot his dad would want to know about it.

Tina leans back in her chair and pushes her hair away from her eyes. “He probably has his parents listed as his emergency contacts. And I don’t even know his brother’s name. He always just calls him ‘my brother’ when he mentions him,” she points out.

“Hey, true. I hadn’t even realized that before.” Sam furrows his brows. “Do you know his brother’s name, Kurt?”

Kurt blinks, suddenly realizing exactly how little he knows about Blaine’s family. “Oh. I don’t, actually. But I...” He stops, straightening in his seat when he sees a nurse approaching the waiting room.

“Anyone here for Mr. Anderson?” the nurse asks, looking around the room.

They all stand up at the same time, but Kurt is still the first one to cross the room to the nurse. “How is he?” he rushes to ask, feeling the familiar tremors running up his arms once again.

The nurse tilts her head at him, smiling kindly. “Are you family?”

Kurt opens his mouth to say something, already considering conning the nurse if that’s what it takes to find out how Blaine is, but then Sam and Tina step up next to him, showing their badges to the nurse.

“We’re from the FBI,” Tina explains. “Agent Anderson is our boss. How is he?”

“Oh, right!” The nurse glances down at the clipboard in her hands, suddenly looking a little flustered. Kurt notices that her name tag has the word 'trainee' written next to her name. “Well, um...” she continues, her eyes flicking over the clipboard. “The bullet didn’t luckily hit any of Mr. Anderson’s internal organs or bones -– it just went through skin and muscle right above his hipbone area, and we’ve taken the bullet out and stitched him up, so while it’s obviously painful and looks quite bad, he... He should be fine.” She looks back up, giving them all another smile. “He does need a lot of rest, though, and he should be careful with his movements until the wound has started to heal properly. We’ll keep him here at least for the rest of today and maybe even most of tomorrow to make sure everything’s fine, but I’m sure he’ll make a full recovery.”

Kurt lets his shoulders relax, pushing his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking too much from relief, or to keep everyone else from seeing how much they are actually shaking. Blaine is fine. He’s going to be fine, just like Sam said, and it feels like Kurt’s heart finally drops back down where it belongs, its beat finally starting to slow down to a normal rhythm.

“Can we see him?” Sam asks.

The nurse puts the clipboard under her arm. “Well, we’ve given him some strong painkillers, so he might be a bit out of it... But sure, you can go see him. I can take you there right now, if you’d like to.”

Kurt forces himself to take a step back. He wants to go see Blaine desperately, but he also knows that the relationship between him and Blaine hasn’t been exactly close for the last couple of days. He’s the one who messed up, panicked and reverted back to his old ways right in front of Blaine, making him smile that god-awful polite smile that makes Kurt’s insides twist every time just because he knows that it’s not Blaine’s real smile.

It’s his own fault, and he will fix it, _has to_ fix it, as soon as Blaine’s feeling better. When Kurt makes a mistake he will do everything he can to fix it, and if this hospital trip has brought about something positive, it’s that he finally realized how badly he needs to fix this. He can’t even imagine his life without Blaine anymore. He doesn’t want to imagine it. That’s how far gone he is, that’s how big a part Blaine has started to play in his life, and he knows now that he was telling the honest truth when he told Santana how he feels about Blaine.

But he hasn’t fixed it yet, so he assumes that Sam and Tina will be the ones to go see Blaine first. They are Blaine’s best friends and colleagues, and with this mess between Kurt and Blaine right now Kurt doesn’t feel like he has any right to butt in on that. He already forced himself into the ambulance –- he won’t force himself into Blaine’s hospital room, no matter how badly he wants to go, no matter how much his hands are shaking.

There’s a hand on his back, though, pushing him forward, and when he looks over his shoulder Tina gives him another nudge, a long-suffering expression on her face.

“Oh my _god_ , go,” she urges with a roll of her eyes. “Sam and I can wait. I’m sure Blaine wants to see you more than he wants to see either one of us.”

Kurt blinks, confused. “I...”

“I need to call the office anyway,” Sam adds and gestures for Kurt to follow the nurse. “Tell him we’ll come see him a little later, okay?”

Kurt swallows, a sudden sense of gratitude washing over him. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just nods before following the nurse down the corridor. He doesn’t like hospitals, but he has spent enough time in them during his lifetime and planned enough escape routes to easily memorize the way to Blaine’s room, just to calm his nerves, and soon the nurse stops in front of a door and pushes it open a little.

“Don’t worry if he falls asleep or talks gibberish,” she mentions. “It’s just a side-effect of the drugs. And if he complains about pain, let us know. I’ll be at the nurses’ station down this corridor.”

Kurt nods his thanks again, not trusting his voice, and slips inside the room. Blaine is lying on a bed, covered with a light hospital blanket, his eyes closed and his hair a dark contrast against the general whiteness of the room. Kurt still remembers from his childhood and high school years how small and helpless people usually look in hospital beds, and that’s true for Blaine as well. It’s almost hard to reconcile the man in front of him now with the Blaine he’s used to seeing, the one who leads his own team and solves crimes and somehow still manages to look so kind, so understanding that it sometimes just breaks Kurt’s heart.

Blaine seems to be asleep, but when Kurt drags a chair closer to the bed and sits down on it he stirs, eyelids slowly fluttering open. His eyes are a little hazy and confused, flicking around the room for a while until they find Kurt’s face and settle on him.

Blaine licks his lips, and when his hand twitches on the bed, Kurt can’t help but reach for it, squeezing it like he did in the ambulance. It’s as if he has to touch Blaine, has to make sure that he’s real and alright and _here_. Kurt has never been a big fan of casual touches, but seeing Blaine get shot has clearly altered his sentiments.

“Hi,” Blaine says in a low voice, the corners of his lips twitching up. “You’re here again.”

Kurt lets out a small laugh, and his hands suddenly feel a lot steadier than they did in the waiting room. “Yeah, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for the next four years. At least.”

Blaine frowns, obviously not understanding the reference to Kurt’s deal in his current state of mind, but then his forehead smoothes down again. “Is Perry with you?” he asks, absent-mindedly tugging at Kurt’s hand.

“Oh.” Kurt blinks. “I’m sorry, Blaine, but she’s not. I can call Ms. Avninder as soon as possible though, okay? I’m sure she’d love to take care of her.”

“She’s a real sweetheart,” Blaine sighs sleepily, and Kurt smiles. “Have I ever told you how I got her? Perry, I mean?”

Kurt resists the urge to reach out and run his other hand through Blaine’s curls. “I don’t think you have.”

“Ms. Avninder was actually the one who found her,” Blaine says, his gaze moving to the ceiling, eyelids blinking sluggishly. “She... I think she found her somewhere, I can’t really remember where, but... Someone had abandoned her –- this adorable little Labrador puppy who had the softest fur ever and the kindest eyes I have ever seen, and some idiot had abandoned her like she was nothing.”

Blaine’s forehead creases over again, and Kurt squeezes his hand, thinking about the dog he has grown to adore. “I can’t believe someone would abandon her. That’s awful,” he mutters.

“Yeah,” Blaine exhales. “Ms. Avninder would have kept her herself, but she’s... Her son is really allergic, so she couldn’t, and I came home from work one day to find her playing with a puppy outside our house, looking kind of sad, and when I asked her what was wrong she told me everything and I... I immediately said I’d take the puppy.” He chuckles in a low voice. “I don’t even know why I said it, because with my job and the hours I spend at the office getting a pet wasn’t exactly the wisest decision, but... I took one look at her and I knew she was my dog. Ms. Avninder hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe, and she promised to take care of Perry whenever I had to work late, so...”

“So it all worked out for the best,” Kurt finishes for him, stroking his thumb over Blaine’s knuckles. “And then you named her after Katy Perry,” he adds teasingly.

Blaine turns to look at Kurt and grins. “You figured that out? No one’s ever figured that out before.”

Kurt laughs. “I figured it out. It wasn’t even that hard.”

Blaine’s smile widens, but then he blinks his eyes, like he just remembered something. “Wait. Did we catch the criminal?”

“Yep, and her list of charges is quite long,” Kurt says, scooting his chair closer to the bed. “I’m not exactly happy that we had to add shooting a federal agent on that list because that’s why you ended up here, but...”

Blaine scrunches up his nose, glancing down at his body. “She wasn’t actually that good of a shot after all. I think the doctor said the bullet didn’t even do that much damage.”

Kurt lets out an incredulous laugh. “Oh my god, Blaine, you can’t joke about something like this.”

“Well it’s true.” Blaine yawns, his shoulders doing a small movement that looks almost like a shrug. “No one else got hurt?” he asks, his voice laced with sudden worry.

“No, everyone else is fine,” Kurt assures and pats his hand. “Sam and Tina will come see you later, but you can go back to sleep if you want to.”

Blaine’s eyelids slip halfway closed, but then he struggles to open them again, his hand holding Kurt’s a little more tightly. “I feel like we should talk about... something?”

“Later,” Kurt promises. “We’ll talk about it later, and this time I’ll keep my promises. Okay?”

Blaine nods. “’Kay.” He closes his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips as his breathing slowly evens out.

“Blaine?” Kurt asks in a low voice after a moment, making sure he actually did fall asleep.

There’s no answer, and Kurt bites his lip, leaning even closer to the bed. Blaine’s eyelashes are fanned out over his cheeks, and there’s a tiny speck of dust or lint near his nose. Kurt gently frees his hand from Blaine’s grip and reaches out to brush it away. His heart feels lighter and heavier at the same time, like he’s feeling too many things all at once and somehow still enjoying it, almost having to restrain himself from laughing out loud. Blaine is alright, and they will talk things out, and even if Kurt knows he won’t tell Blaine everything, not yet, he can tell him something. Apparently he needs Blaine Anderson in his life more than he needs all those secrets and lies he has kept up for years.

His life is a mess and he’s still trying to figure some things out, but it turns out Santana was wrong. He doesn’t just like Blaine -– he’s well on his way to falling in love with him. Or maybe he has fallen already, and he just keeps tumbling deeper and deeper every time he sees Blaine, not even wanting to find his way back to the way things were before.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispers, cupping Blaine’s cheek in his hand and moving his thumb over the soft skin under his eye. The corner of Blaine’s mouth twitches, as if he’s smiling in his sleep. In a moment of courage Kurt leans down and lets his lips brush over Blaine’s forehead, breathing in the faint scent that reminds him of Blaine’s office and apartment, of early morning coffee and smiling Labradors, of second or third chances and the life he wants to have.

Kurt pulls away after a moment, but he keeps his hand on Blaine’s cheek, just because. Then he remembers what they were talking about a few minutes ago, and a small snort makes its way past his lips.

“And I promise I’ll make sure Perry is okay as well,” he adds, even though Blaine can’t hear him. He did say he would keep his promises this time.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another interlude from Kurt’s POV.

Kurt is the one who drives Blaine home when he finally gets out of the hospital. Blaine didn’t ask him, but Kurt volunteered to pick up Blaine’s car and drive him home, and Blaine looked pleasantly surprised by the suggestion, so he supposes it was the right choice.

They haven’t talked about the mess, as Kurt has started calling it in his head, not yet –- not with Blaine mostly under the influence of pain meds and Kurt still having to reassure himself that he's fine. He has stayed close to Blaine as much as possible for the past two days, holding his hand when he’s asleep and talking about Perry and the aftermath of the case when he’s awake. There have been a few times when Blaine has looked at him like he’s waiting for him to broach the subject, but Kurt hasn’t brought it up yet. He has been waiting for the right moment, for the time when they’re not inside the suffocating hospital walls anymore.

He knows that his time is running out.

Outside Blaine’s apartment building Kurt watches as Blaine struggles to get out of the car, carefully maneuvering his limbs and wincing when he slowly stands up.

“Do you need help?” Kurt asks as he rushes around the car to where Blaine is standing, already reaching out for him just in case.

Blaine takes a deep breath, treading the few steps it takes to cross the sidewalk in a way that looks a bit stiff. “N-no, it’s just...” He gives a small smile, scrunching his nose. “Standing up and sitting down are still kind of difficult, as are reaching up or down, even if the doctor said the wound is starting to heal well. But I can handle it.”

Kurt hesitates, his hand hovering near Blaine’s elbow. He thinks about the last time he drove Blaine home, when Blaine almost fell asleep in the car, and the same emotion is still there, that old instinct to take care of someone.

“I know you can handle it,” he ventures, his voice careful because he doesn’t want to cross any boundaries when things are still so tentative between them, “but you don’t have to handle it alone.”

Blaine stops, surprised. They’re standing right in front of the doorstep, two flights of stairs still waiting for them, and Kurt slowly offers his hand to Blaine. A part of him is afraid that Blaine will just turn his back on him, stubbornly climb all those stairs by himself because he doesn’t want to accept Kurt’s help, and he swallows against the fear in his throat, keeping his hand still and waiting for the inevitable refusal.

Blaine stares at his hand for a moment, his eyebrows high up on his forehead. Then his face breaks into a smile, and he reaches out and takes Kurt’s hand, his grip hesitant at first until he looks up into Kurt’s eyes and squeezes his hand tightly.

“Okay,” he says. “I could... I could probably use some help with the stairs,” he admits with a sheepish laugh.

The sight of his smile and the touch of his hand remind Kurt of things he hasn’t experienced for a long time ( _like home, he feels like home_ ), and the breath rushes out of his lungs. “Alright then,” he says airily, taking a step towards the building. “Let’s go.”

They make it up the stairs, Kurt’s hand squeezing Blaine’s and his other brushing his elbow for support. Blaine winces a few times, but he doesn’t waver, doesn’t stop to rest, and he even looks a bit surprised himself by how easy the climb turns out to be. He could have probably made it without help, but he keeps holding on to Kurt’s hand anyway and even leans closer every time his movements seem to pull on his injured side.

Perry practically launches herself at Blaine when they open the door, whining and making distressed noises at the back of her throat as if she can smell the wound and the hospital stay on Blaine. She barely notices Kurt, and when Blaine offers his hand to her with a smile she immediately licks at it, her tail wagging like there’s no tomorrow.

“Hi girl,” Blaine coos and pets her head. “I’m sorry I can’t bend down to greet you properly, but I have to be careful with my movements for now.” Perry whines again, butting her head against his leg, and Blaine laughs. “Oh, so you do still like me? Ms. Avninder hasn’t completely won you over by now?”

Kurt smiles and absent-mindedly scratches Perry’s fur with his fingertips as he steps further into the apartment. His time is up.

“Do you... Are you tired?” he asks, looking at Blaine over his shoulder, his hands playing with the scarf around his neck. “The doctor said you should rest.”

Blaine keeps petting Perry and glances up at Kurt. The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. “Rest isn’t the same as sleep, Kurt. I feel like I’ve spent the last two days just sleeping.”

“Oh.” Kurt loosens his scarf and looks around the apartment, biting his lip.

Blaine’s smile dims, and he slowly straightens his back, giving Perry one last scratch behind her ears. “But... I could sit down?” he suggests. “In the living room?”

Kurt nods. “Y-yeah, sure. Can you...” He gestures towards the living room awkwardly.

Blaine rolls his eyes, the gesture more fond than anything else. “I think I can walk there without any help, thank you.”

“Do you want coffee?” Kurt asks, stalling. “I... I could make some.”

“That’d be great.” Blaine gives a smile and slowly walks to the living room, Perry scurrying after him with her tongue lolling from her mouth. “You do know how to use my coffee maker?” he calls out as he goes.

“Yeah, I’ll bring the coffee to the living room when I’m done,” Kurt answers. He pushes his coat off of his shoulders and drapes it over the back of a nearby chair, folding his scarf neatly on top of it. Then he makes his way to the familiar kitchen, leaning against the island as soon as he’s out of Blaine’s line of sight, breathing out slowly.

He can’t help but wince when he realizes that he practically stuttered when he was talking to Blaine.

He knows that he needs to explain some things to Blaine, he even wants to explain them, but he’s still terrified. He can’t remember the last time he was this honest with someone, the last time he apologized for his lies and cons and tried to make sense of them for someone else. It’s not that he’s scared of Blaine’s reaction –- Blaine has made it clear that he wants an explanation but he has also kept touching Kurt’s hand and smiling at him, curious but not pressuring, concerned but not demanding –- and even if Blaine had yelled at Kurt again or flinched away from his touch, Kurt would still feel the need to explain his actions.

It’s weird. He didn’t bother with explanations when he was still lying and conning people every day, not even when Santana sometimes questioned him or before he disappeared from Rachel’s life. He felt bad about hurting people, of course he did, but he always told himself that it was necessary, that it was just something he had to do and that’s it. When he first started his con-man career he spent several sleepless nights thinking about the people he had conned, worrying and second-guessing his choices, but like everything else it got easier with time, until all he felt was a small tightening around his heart or a tiny twinge of regret during those cons he did right before he got arrested for the first time.

But Blaine... He can’t stand the idea of hurting Blaine. Not if he has the choice not to.

He busies himself with making coffee, rummaging through Blaine’s kitchen cabinets until he finds the mug he has seen Blaine use before, a plain white mug with the FBI logo on it. Most of the other mugs and cups look practically untouched, and some of them are even covered with a thin layer of dust. Blaine probably doesn’t have that many visitors with his busy hours at the office and late night stake-outs, but Kurt is surprised to notice that one of the mugs has been set aside next to Blaine’s usual mug, away from the others.

It’s an official FBI mug, similar to the one Blaine uses, except this one’s dark blue and doesn’t look as well-used as Blaine’s own mug. When Kurt picks it up and looks at it more closely his breath catches in his throat –- it’s the mug Blaine always gives to him when he visits, the one Blaine placed in front of him on the dining room table all those months ago when Kurt rang his doorbell at half past five in the morning and they discussed their first case for such a long time that one take-away cup of coffee just wasn’t enough.

It’s _Kurt’s_ mug, set aside from all the others, waiting on the shelf right next to Blaine’s own. It's such a small thing, but still so... Important.

Kurt finishes making the coffee, putting too much sugar and a sprinkle of cinnamon in Blaine’s and a little bit of milk in his own before he carefully carries the mugs into the living room. Blaine is sitting on the well-worn arm chair, leaning against the backrest so he won’t pull at his stitches, and Perry is lying on the floor next to him, her front paws practically over Blaine’s feet as if she can keep him still in that way. Her tail thumps against the floor a few times when she notices Kurt.

“Here’s your coffee,” Kurt says and gives the white mug to Blaine.

Blaine smiles his thanks and takes a sip of the coffee, his eyelashes fluttering closed when he swallows. Kurt sits down opposite Blaine, wrapping his fingers around his own mug and letting the warmth calm his nerves. Blaine’s living room isn’t that big –- there are just a few feet of empty space between their legs, and Kurt doesn’t know if the proximity is a relief or if he needs more space to get everything out of his mouth.

“God, two days without proper coffee is clearly too much,” Blaine practically moans and takes another sip.

Kurt stares into his own coffee for a moment and then abruptly places it on the coffee table, resting his hands in his lap instead. “I didn’t mean to lie to you,” he blurts out.

Blaine looks up, curious and a little surprised.

“I...” Kurt starts again, looking away from Blaine’s eyes. “I really didn’t mean to lie,” he repeats softly. “There was no reason for me to do that because it was an accident, that whole stepping over the perimeter thing –- I didn’t know I was that close to the edge of my radius and I just... accidentally stepped over it, and when I realized what had happened I quickly stepped back.”

Blaine licks his lips, moving his fingers slowly over the smooth surface of the mug. “So why did you lie to me, then?” he asks.

There’s just a hint of accusation in his voice, barely there and noticeable only because Kurt’s knows the way Blaine’s voice works. Mostly he just sounds... curious. Like he wants to understand, wants to see the mess from Kurt’s point of view.

Kurt sighs, his fingers moving restlessly over the knuckles of his other hand. “It was... instinct, I suppose, as awful as that sounds.”

Blaine flinches and looks away. “Oh.”

“No, not like that!” Kurt hastens to correct when he realizes what that must have sounded like. “I didn’t mean that it was my instinct to lie to _you_ , definitely not. That’s-– that’s not what I meant.” He lowers his voice, thinking about the best way to explain what really happened. “I meant that it was instinct because... You know there are things in my past I don’t talk about, not even to you?”

Blaine nods, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Well, every time someone brings up a subject that even comes close to those things, I tend to panic.” Kurt leans back, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve been lying about certain things for so long, ignoring them and just pushing them away for so many years that I’ve gotten used to always lying about them. It’s just too difficult to tell the truth, sometimes. It’s too much.”

“So you lied to me because you panicked?” Blaine asks.

Kurt swallows. “That night when I stepped outside my radius I... I met up with this person who knew me before all of this, before the whole con-man career, and... You’ve probably noticed how I never talk about my family?”

Blaine’s head snaps up, his eyes wide and surprised. “Kurt, you don’t have to...” he starts, but Kurt shakes his head.

“No, what I meant is that... This person I met up with is like family to me. Like I said, they knew me before all of this, they know what I was like before I became a criminal.” He gives a laugh. “I wouldn't even be surprised to find out that they have gathered all sorts of dirt on me.”

The corners of Blaine's mouth twitch up in a small smile.

Kurt sobers, shaking his head. “Anyway, my family is one of those things I always lie about. The one thing I instinctively cover up with lies and half-truths and cons.” He looks into Blaine’s eyes, hoping that his words make sense. “So when you asked me what I was doing there that night, I panicked. Like I always do when the topic comes close to the people I don’t want to talk about. That’s why I lied to you, without even realizing it at first, but then I realized and I just...” He trails off.

“You just what?” Blaine prompts quietly.

“I knew I did the one thing I promised I would never do to you,” Kurt finishes. “And I was so terrified, because I had thought that I could keep that promise, that you would be the one person I wouldn’t... let down like that.”

Blaine’s smile turns sad, his eyes downcast, and he starts moving his fingers over the mug's surface again. “I guess family’s a bit of sore spot for both of us,” he says in a gentle voice.

Kurt remembers Blaine’s brother, the one he rarely talks about, never mentioning his name. At the office practically everyone has some sort of a photograph on their desk -– Sam has a picture of his younger brother and sister, Tina has a picture of her boyfriend, others have pictures of family members, significant others and friends. Kurt doesn’t have any photos for obvious reasons, but the only other exception, he realizes, is Blaine. There are no pictures on his desk at work, no framed photographs on the walls of his apartment, and the only so-called family photo Kurt has seen is the picture of Perry as a puppy that’s taped on the door of Blaine’s fridge.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “You could say that.”

Blaine puts his coffee down on the small table next to the arm chair. “Thank you for telling me, Kurt.”

“You... It made sense?” Kurt asks, wringing his hands again. “Because I know it makes sense in my head and I know I have a lot of issues with telling the truth, but I wasn’t sure you’d be able to understand those reasons, not after I hurt you like that, and I’m so sorry you had to get shot before I finally managed to pull my head out of my ass, but I was so scared that this was it and you would never trust me again and-–”

“Kurt, Kurt!” Blaine laughs, reaching out with his hands and stopping Kurt’s rambling. “It’s okay, I get it. I get why you lied to me. I just wanted to know why. You don’t have to tell me everything, you and I both know that, but I couldn’t come up with a reason for why you would lie to me, and now that I do know why you did it, it’s almost... obvious.”

He pauses for a long while, swallowing roughly and looking away. The smile slowly disappears from his eyes, and Kurt’s stomach twists as if he’s in pain, as if it hurts him not to know why Blaine looks so lost all of a sudden.

“My reaction probably seemed a bit... over-the-top for you,” Blaine adds, shrugging as if his feelings are irrelevant.

Kurt shakes his head before Blaine has even finished the sentence. “No, Blaine, you had every right to-–”

“I was just so scared that I had screwed something up,” Blaine says quietly, and suddenly his eyes fill with tears. Kurt freezes, not used to seeing Blaine like this, this vulnerable, and the realization makes his stomach twist even more, as if his insides are being tied into tight knots.

“I was so scared that everything we had worked for was meaningless,” Blaine continues, “or that you were going distance yourself and start lying to me, or that maybe all of those rumors spreading around the office were actually true –- but now I just...” He shakes his head, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “I guess I just keep overreacting to things, especially to things that turn out to be completely logical and understandable. But I just want this to work so badly, Kurt, in so many ways. I don’t want to screw this up.”

Something tightens around Kurt’s heart and he scoots closer, leaning over the small space between them until he can grasp Blaine’s hand. “You’re not screwing anything up,” he assures him. “We just both keep making mistakes in this whole CI plus agent relationship,” he adds with a small grin and is relieved to see that the corners of Blaine’s mouth twitch up as well. “I mean, we’re both new to this, so it’s bound to happen, but you’re not the only one who doesn’t want to screw this up, Blaine. Why do you think I told you all of that? Why do you think I...” He hesitates, biting his lip. “Why do you think I have a feeling that one day I might actually tell you all those things I haven’t told anyone else?” he finishes.

Blaine blinks his eyes, a tear slipping free and sliding down his cheek. “W-what?” he stutters.

Kurt thinks about what Santana said -– _maybe you should think about telling this to that Blaine guy then_ –- and a part of him can’t believe that he’s actually about to take advice from Santana Lopez of all people. But Blaine has bared his feelings, all those worries he has never shown to Kurt before, and perhaps the least Kurt can do is be a bit more honest than he usually is, just for Blaine.

(When he first moved to New York, years and years ago, he used to call his dad almost every day. For the first few weeks the phone calls mostly just consisted of him complaining about how being in the city of her dreams had turned Rachel into even more of a diva than she already was -– how she used all the hot water every morning, acted like she was the queen of the world, and didn’t even seem to notice that Kurt was still a bit confused by the city. His dad listened to him patiently, but eventually, after the fifteenth or sixteenth phone call, he interrupted Kurt and said, “You know, Kurt, people don’t necessarily know how you feel unless you tell them yourself.”

Perhaps it’s not Santana’s advice he’s taking, but his dad’s.)

Kurt strokes his thumb over Blaine’s knuckles, just like he did in the hospital, and takes a deep breath. “You just... You make me want to be a better person, Blaine,” he confesses. Blaine’s breath hitches in his throat. “You remind me of all these things I used to be, of all the things I could be, and being with you, working with you... It makes me feel like a better person. It makes me feel like myself.”

Blaine is staring at him, tear tracks on his cheeks, and the way he looks at Kurt makes him blink a few overwhelmed tears of his own away from his eyes.

“B-but... You already are a better person, Kurt,” Blaine counters. “You’re so much better than you think you are.”

Kurt shrugs. “Maybe, but you’re helping me see that as well.”

Blaine lets out a soft laugh and lifts his hand to wipe his face with his sleeve, his other hand still holding Kurt’s in an awkward angle. “Well, if that’s the case, I’m glad that I can do that for you,” he says eventually.

“That is the case, trust me,” Kurt insists and moves his other hand to rest over their joined fingers as well.

Blaine stops and looks at their hands for a moment, obviously gathering the courage to say something. “I... I know I told you that I suggested this deal because I thought you could help people and because you deserved a chance, but it’s not just about that.” His voice goes quiet, unsure, and Kurt leans instinctively closer, trying to catch Blaine’s eye. “It’s not just about helping other people or helping you or making you see how good you can be. I mean yes, that’s a big part of it, but it’s also...” Blaine squeezes Kurt’s hand. “I’m also being selfish. Because I like having you in my life, Kurt. I want you in my life.”

Kurt can suddenly hear his own heartbeat in his ears, loud and fast, and something that feels a lot like hope starts unfurling inside his chest, warm and so inviting, chasing away all the tight knots inside his stomach.

“What do you-–” he starts, but Blaine squeezes his hand again, stopping his words.

“You were honest with me and made sure we could fix things, so I...” Blaine lets out a wet laugh. “I kind of feel like I have to be honest with you as well. Because I don’t want you to stay in this deal without knowing the real reason I suggested it in the first place.”

Kurt swallows, his throat dry. “And what is that?”

Blaine looks at him, and his gaze is so tender, so soft and full of something that Kurt has been hoping for for such a long time. Everything in his eyes is more than usual, more than Kurt has ever seen, and the artist in him tries to desperately memorize all the details -– the color of Blaine’s eyes in this moment, the cold sunlight streaming in from the window, Perry asleep on the floor next to Blaine’s feet, the mugs of cold coffee set aside, and the way Blaine takes a deep, shuddering breath before he says the next words.

“I think I’m in love with you, Kurt,” he breathes out.

Not just more –- this is everything, this is the most Kurt has ever felt.

“And I know that it complicates things,” Blaine mutters, ducking his head in a nervous gesture, “and I know that the people who spread those stupid rumors would probably have a field day if they knew about this, and you most likely don’t even feel the same way, but I...” He glances at Kurt, and the smile playing on his lips takes Kurt’s breath away. “You always fascinated me more than anyone else, but it took me a while to realize that it wasn't about the chase or the clever crimes. It was about who you are and what you make me feel. And this deal was basically just an excuse to spend more time with you.”

Kurt stares at him, his heart thumping loudly against his ribcage. He can’t remember the last time he was this speechless, if there's ever even been a time like that. The silence stretches on and on, his mouth open around the words he wants to get out but can’t because this is pure honesty, no lies or cons or bright smiles to hide behind; all of those have suddenly faded away, and he doesn’t –-

Blaine’s smile falls and he looks away, tugging his hand from Kurt’s grip, a distant and polite expression already forming on his face. “I... I’m sorry, I didn’t...”

It feels cold -– Kurt’s hands feel cold when he’s not holding on to Blaine’s hand anymore, his heart feels cold when Blaine looks like that, sad and disappointed and worried -– and he quickly scrambles forward, closing the distance between them and cupping Blaine’s cheek with his hand so he can lift his chin and press his lips against Blaine’s.

Blaine freezes for a second, but then his whole body unwinds, his lips opening under Kurt’s and his eyelids fluttering closed. Kurt’s hand slides from Blaine’s cheek to the back of his head, his fingers brushing the small curls at the nape of Blaine’s neck, and when he turns his head a little he can taste the remains coffee and cinnamon in Blaine’s mouth, an undercurrent of something exquisite behind the softness of Blaine’s plump lips.

Kurt is practically halfway in Blaine’s lap, trying to keep his limbs away from Blaine’s left side where the gunshot wound is, his back bent in an awkward angle, but he doesn’t care. He really couldn’t care less about the uncomfortable twinge in his shoulders when Blaine sighs in his mouth, a small, surprised sound escaping from his throat, his hand fisting the front of Kurt’s shirt. This, _this_ is the most Kurt has ever felt –- this is everything he has been wondering about for the last few months, this is what he has been aching for, the slide of Blaine’s lips against his own, Blaine sucking his lower lip gently in his mouth and pulling him closer as if he never wants to let go.

Kurt gives Blaine’s lips one last nip, and then he leans away, his hand sliding away from the back of Blaine’s head. He rests his hands on the armrests of Blaine’s chair for support, trying to catch his breath, but it’s knocked right out of him all over again when Blaine blinks his eyes open and looks at him, his mouth still a little open and his lips red and so kissable.

“What...” Blaine clears his throat, searching Kurt’s face. “What just...”

“I’m in love with you too,” Kurt says. He needs to memorize the way Blaine looks right now as well, the way his eyes widen at Kurt’s words and his mouth falls open a little more, astonished and almost disbelieving. He wants to paint a picture of Blaine in this moment; he can almost see the painting in his mind already, the colors vibrant and hopeful, but still somehow soft and inviting.

“You... You are?” Blaine asks. On the floor Perry makes a small sound in her sleep, but neither one of them pays any attention to it.

“I am,” Kurt affirms, a giddy grin pulling at his lips. There’s no reason for him to lie, not anymore.

“You are,” Blaine repeats slowly. His eyes go over Kurt’s face one last time, and then he lets out a surprised laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He sounds younger than ever before. “You really are, oh my god-–”

This time it’s Blaine who surges forward, but Kurt meets him halfway, making sure he doesn’t move too much and aggravate his wound, pushing Blaine’s shoulders until he’s leaning against the backrest again and crowded between the chair and Kurt’s body. Kurt practically climbs into Blaine’s lap, his legs on either side of Blaine’s thighs and his anklet catching on the fabric of Blaine's pants.

The kiss is more desperate than the first one, and Blaine whines into it, his hands automatically anchoring themselves on Kurt’s hips. Kurt feels almost dizzy with it, running his fingers down the front of Blaine’s shirt, because _oh_ , this is what Blaine’s body feels like, this is what his hands feel like when they’re pulling Kurt even closer, this is what his lips taste like, this is what it feels like when Blaine practically arches up into Kurt’s touch.

Suddenly Blaine lets out a gasp that sounds more pained than pleased, and Kurt immediately breaks the kiss and pulls back, just in time to see how Blaine winces and presses his hand against his left side, over the still tender gunshot wound.

“Oh god, are you okay?” Kurt panics, his hands hovering nervously above Blaine’s body. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Blaine lets out a laugh. “No, no, it’s fine, I just-– I guess I just got a bit too excited there and forgot that I’m not exactly as right as rain right now.”

Kurt bites his lip. “Sorry.”

“I wasn’t protesting,” Blaine says. “Did it look like I was? Because I can assure you that I-–”

Kurt cuts him off by pressing a quick kiss on his mouth, just because he can. Blaine’s eyes close at the touch, a small smile spreading over his lips, and he moves his other hand back to Kurt’s hipbone, stroking it slowly over his clothes. It feels odd, in a good way. Kurt has always been very particular about touching, freezing almost every time someone just brushes his shoulder or pats his back. There have always been exceptions, obviously, but it has usually taken him years to get used to someone new touching him. But with Blaine... Blaine’s touch has never made him freeze or flinch away. Blaine’s touch has always grounded him, has always been welcome and careful, and he has even wanted Blaine to touch him, to hold his hand and squeeze his shoulder. The realization that they can now touch in a different way makes his cheeks flush and a heat pool in his stomach.

“Wait. Isn’t there a rule about agents dating CIs and vice versa?” Kurt asks after a moment, suddenly remembering how Blaine said that his feelings complicate things.

The movement of Blaine’s hand stops and his eyes flutter open. “Y-yeah,” he says, “there is, actually. It’s very strictly forbidden.”

“Oh.” Kurt can feel his shoulders slump, and he rests his hands on his lap, trying not to sound too disappointed. He knows how important the FBI is to Blaine, and he would never ask him to make a choice between his work and his feelings. It still doesn’t change the fact that this feels so unfair -– to finally have something, have someone he has been waiting for, only to have stupid rules stop them.

Blaine clears his throat, his hand starting to move over Kurt’s hipbone again in a soothing pattern. “It’s considered inappropriate because I’m your handler and you’re working for us. If anyone at the Bureau found out, you could go back to prison and I could be fired,” he explains in a quiet voice. “So basically... We’d have to keep this a secret?”

It sounds more like a question than a statement, and Kurt’s head snaps up. Blaine is smiling at him, small and hopeful, and something warm spreads through Kurt’s body.

“That sounds a lot like breaking the rules,” he points out.

Blaine nods. “I know. And believe me, I would love to just... kiss you right in front of everyone at the office first thing tomorrow morning, but it’s not that simple. There are already agents who doubt everything about our deal, and if they knew that we...”

“No, I get it,” Kurt interrupts. “I’m just a bit surprised that you’re the one suggesting that we should break the rules. I thought I would have to bring that up,” he adds with a grin.

Blaine’s smile widens. “Well, I’ve been bending and twisting the rules ever since you agreed to this deal.” He shrugs. “And I just... I don’t want to let go of you because of some rule that tells me I should. Maybe I just want to be selfish again.”

Kurt shakes his head, feeling far too much for this agent who could’ve been his biggest enemy, all things considered. “Trust me, you’re not being selfish.”

Blaine looks at him, his smile a little goofy. “So... Are we crime-fighting boyfriends now?”

“We’re boyfriends,” Kurt laughs. “Just in secret.”

“Such rule-breakers,” Blaine whispers and pulls him closer, meeting his lips gently, and Kurt keeps his eyes open this time, just to make sure this is actually happening.

 _Oh, there you are_ , he thinks. _I’ve been looking for you forever._


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the wait -- real life has been messing up my writing. The good news is that I've now planned this fic till the very end, all the remaining ten or so chapters. Now I just have to write them. ;D
> 
> Also, check out the gorgeous art my friend [Patricia](http://synchronizedminds.tumblr.com) made for this fic [right here](http://afterthenovels.tumblr.com/post/62714981661/catch-me-if-you-can-by-afterthenovels-special). ♥

It’s been about a month since the first time they kissed, and the wound on Blaine’s side has healed a long time ago, but sometimes he still feels like he’s living in some unbelievable painkiller-induced alternate universe where Kurt Hummel is actually in love with him. It feels unreal, after so many months or even years of first wondering why he felt so connected to Kurt and then trying to figure out what to do with his growing feelings. After so many months of trying to imagine what Kurt’s lips might taste like, of hoping that he could hug him more often and initiate something more than just those casual pats on the back he does to everyone on his team.

But now he knows that Kurt’s lips taste like something wonderful and a little different each time -– sometimes like coffee, sometimes like early morning sunlight, or sometimes just like Kurt, soft and smiling and enticing. He knows what Kurt’s body feels like when it’s pressed against his own, knows what the skin underneath Kurt’s layers feels like and even what it tastes like, knows that there are tiny freckles spread over Kurt’s shoulders and that there’s a small scar on his thigh from a con gone wrong, knows that he lets out a little gasp every time Blaine’s lips move down his throat and kiss the long column of his neck.

It’s not necessarily always about sex, either, though what little they’ve done so far has been amazing. Work is busy as always, and often when they end up spending the night together (usually at Blaine’s apartment because he doesn’t want to leave Perry alone for too long) they just curl around each other on the bed that doesn’t feel so big anymore and trade lazy kisses until they fall asleep. It’s more about exploration –- Blaine has spent years and years trying to make sense of Kurt’s mind, and now he has the honor of doing the same to Kurt’s body.

Yet no matter how many nights they spend together or how many times they’ve kissed, it all still sometimes feels so unreal. But then Blaine catches Kurt staring at him over the files of their current case, a barely noticeable smile lighting up his face in a way that makes Blaine automatically smile back at him, and the moment is so private, so significant, that he knows that this is real. That somehow they figured it out.

They have managed to act normal around the office, or as normal as they’ve ever been. Blaine knows it’s not exactly normal for agents and CIs to be that friendly with each other, even if the Bureau encourages them to make the effort. Most agents don’t take their lunch breaks with their CI, or sit with them at the office until all the other agents have left, talking about things that don’t necessarily concern the case they’re working on right now.

He and Kurt had a conversation about it late one night when they were lying on Blaine’s bed, Perry snoring on the floor next to them, and they figured that it would be less suspicious if they just acted the way they always did around each other before this happened, and so far it seems to be working. Blaine can still squeeze Kurt’s shoulders, pat his back and smile at him; he just needs to tone his feelings down a bit when there are other agents around.

They both have undercover experience, so it really isn’t that hard, even if sometimes Blaine’s heart still aches with the need to just lean over the conference room table and kiss Kurt’s lovely smiling lips, pull him close and run his fingers over Kurt’s lean torso.

His heart is actually kind of doing that right now.

The whole team’s sitting in the conference room, discussing the bank robbery they’re working on, when Blaine suddenly realizes that he has been staring at the soft smile on Kurt’s face for at least a few seconds too long, and it’s really a wonder that no one from his team has said anything by now.

Right. Team. Conference room. They’re working.

Blaine looks away, focusing on the file in his hands, but he still notices the way Tina’s eyes flick curiously from him to Kurt and back, her eyebrows furrowing.

“So,” Blaine says over the general chatter of the room, all the other agents quieting down almost immediately. He straightens his back and deliberately keeps his eyes away from Kurt, concentrating back on the issue at hand. “We know how much money was stolen and we know that the robbers had somehow gotten their hands on the key code to the vault, but we still don’t know how they got in and out of the building itself in broad daylight with hundreds of people inside the bank. Any thoughts?”

“The back entrance seems like the most obvious choice,” Sam comments, gesturing towards the blueprint of the bank projected onto the pull-down screen behind Blaine.

Blaine shakes his head, flipping through the case file. “Mm, too obvious. There was a guard near it, and he didn’t see anything. The surveillance cameras also show nothing.”

“If I may?” Kurt starts, raising his hand. Blaine nods at him to continue. “They could have used the roof -– there’s a clear route from the roof to the backroom where the vaults are, but it’s not very secure.” He points at the blueprint. “If I were them, I would’ve used the cellar instead -– there’s a maintenance room down there, as these blueprints show, and considerably fewer cameras. The maintenance elevator is probably quite easy to hack, even without a keycard, and the robbers could’ve just blended in with the cleaners when they got to the ground floor.” He crosses his arms over his chest, sniffing indignantly. “Besides, it’s not exactly a surprise that they got hold of the key code. You should probably tell the bank manager that codes like that are supposed to be changed at least daily, not weekly.”

Blaine bites back a smile. One of the younger probies is looking at Kurt like she can’t believe he’s real, and Sam seems to be hiding his own grin behind his hand.

“I will let the bank manager know that,” Blaine promises. He puts down the file he’s been holding before he addresses the whole team again. “Alright, let’s go with Kurt’s suggestion and check out the basement for any evidence. Check the roof as well, just in case,” he adds as the agents start collecting their papers and rising from their seats. He turns his head to look at the blueprint over his shoulder and frowns. “This does seem like a professional job. We should probably check if there are any similar cases...”

“I can do that,” Kurt’s voice says next to him, and Blaine swivels back to see him leaning against the table right behind him, staying out of the way as the other agents get out of the room. “I have a few ideas about old cases that fit the M.O.,” he adds, “so I could go down to the records floor and see if I can find some of those case files.”

Blaine smiles, resisting the urge to reach out and rest his hand over Kurt’s on the conference room table. “Sure. Let me know if you need any help.”

“Will do,” Kurt promises and winks at him.

A pleasant warmth swoops through Blaine’s stomach. Kurt pushes himself off the table, and when he walks past Blaine their arms brush, the backs of their hands sliding over each other in a way that is clearly deliberate, and Blaine’s skin tingles, as if there are sparks running up his arm. He will probably never get tired of touching Kurt, whether it’s a small, partly hidden casual touch like this one, or something bigger and more meaningful.

Kurt walks out of the room and jogs down the stairs to the lower level, glancing at Blaine one last time over his shoulder before he pushes his hands in his pockets and disappears towards the elevators. Blaine shakes his head to clear his thoughts and looks around the conference room. There are a few chairs that aren’t pushed all the way under the table, and he goes around the room straightening them out before he collects his papers and makes his way to his own office.

He calls the bank manager and signs a few clearances, and is currently emptying his inbox when his phone beeps in his pocket, the sudden noise startling him from the ever-interesting world of FBI bulletins.

 

 **From Kurt:**  
_I think I might need some help._

 

 **From Blaine:**  
_Can’t find the files?_

 

 **From Kurt:**  
_Something like that. Can you just come down here for a moment?_

 

 **From Blaine:**  
_Alright, give me a minute._

 

Blaine turns off his computer and gets out of his office as quickly as he can. There are agents working in the records department at this time of the day, and he has no idea why Kurt won’t just ask them for help, but he makes his way to the basement anyway, smiling at the agent sitting behind the front desk.

“Your CI went that way some time ago,” the agent says before Blaine even has the chance to ask, gesturing at the left-hand side of the room and not even looking up from his laptop.

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” Blaine gives another smile and steps into the vast labyrinth of bookshelves and old case files. They have electronic records of all the old cases as well, but Blaine has always preferred the good old paper files. They seem more concrete, more meaningful and official, with authentic signatures and old coffee stains, and after that one time when there was a power outage that shut down all the computers in the white collar office he has never underestimated the power of printed copies.

Because of all that Blaine knows his way around the records department quite well, and he heads automatically towards the corner of the large room that has case files on old bank robberies. He walks between the familiar shelves, peeking around them to catch a sight of Kurt and letting his fingers run over the backs of the folders every now and then. It always smells a bit musty in this floor, but he doesn’t mind.

He finds Kurt almost in the farthest corner of the room, leaning against a bookshelf and flipping through a case file with the expression of a person who has nothing better to do.

“There you are,” Blaine sing-songs and steps closer to him. Kurt looks up, his mouth immediately turning into a smile. “If you needed help finding the right files, you could’ve just asked Bill,” Blaine continues, nodding his head towards the front desk, several bookcases blocking the view of it from where they’re standing. “He knows this place a lot better than I do.”

Kurt’s smile turns a little mischievous, and he slowly pushes the file he was reading back into the shelf. “Actually, I found a few similar cases already. And the files for them are right here.” He taps his finger against a small pile of flies that has been placed in an empty nook in the shelf next to him.

Blaine frowns in confusion. “Then why did you...”

“Did you know,” Kurt interrupts in a conversational voice, taking a step closer, his eyes suddenly focused on Blaine’s face, “that this exact spot isn’t covered by any of the FBI surveillance cameras? Meaning that no one can see what happens right... here.”

He wraps his fingers slowly around Blaine’s tie and pulls him closer, a spark in his eyes, and Blaine’s mouth turns dry as his mind finally catches up.

“Oh,” he breathes out. He rests his hands on Kurt’s waist, pulling him against himself until their chests are touching and there’s almost no space between their faces. “Is that so?” he drawls.

Kurt hums in agreement and then turns them around a little so that he can pin Blaine against the nearest bookshelf. A few of the folders dig into Blaine’s back, but he doesn’t mind, not when Kurt’s hands are warm at the small of his back, inching their way underneath his suit jacket.

“I missed you last night,” Kurt whispers and bends his head so that he can trail his nose over Blaine’s jawline, practically nuzzling his skin.

Blaine tilts his head back, letting out a small gasp when Kurt crowds him closer to the bookshelf and pushes his knee between Blaine’s legs. “I–- I missed you too,” he manages to choke out. “But I promised Captain Kowalski that I’d help him with that late night stake-out and-–”

“I know, Blaine. I know.” Kurt sounds amused, and he lifts his head for a moment, his fingers still teasing the waistband of Blaine’s pants. “I just... It was just weird, going a whole day without getting the chance to kiss you.”

There’s a hint of shyness in his smile, and the fact that Kurt missed him, missed kissing him, makes Blaine’s heart beat a little bit faster. “It was weird,” he repeats, resting his forehead against Kurt’s. “I would’ve much rather spent the night with you instead of being cooped up in a stuffy van with five members of New York’s finest.”

Kurt laughs and leans in to capture Blaine’s lips. The kiss is so slow and sensual that Blaine’s toes curl in his shoes, and he can’t help but lick into Kurt’s mouth, hearing the way Kurt’s breath hitches at the contact. Kurt’s fingers tighten their hold on Blaine’s back, digging almost painfully into his skin through his clothes, and Blaine’s own hands move up to Kurt’s broad shoulders, grabbing his jacket and pulling him closer.

Kurt pulls back a little, his lips still brushing Blaine’s. “Please don’t wrinkle my clothes. I still have to wear them for the rest of the day.”

“You’re the one who was abusing my vintage tie just a moment ago,” Blaine teases back and kisses the corner of Kurt’s mouth.

“M-hm.” Kurt smiles, and there’s something familiar about the curve of his smile, something that Blaine has seen in a different context before, and when he realizes what it is he can’t help but bark out a sudden laugh. Kurt leans back and tilts his head in confusion. “What? What’s so funny?”

“You just smiled your charmer smile at me,” Blaine laughs, petting Kurt’s back. “You know, the one you use when you’re trying to charm one of your marks to do something you want them to do?”

Kurt freezes for a moment and then tries to pull away from Blaine’s touch, his eyes shocked. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to use my con mannerisms on you-–”

“Hey no, wait, where are you going?” Blaine exclaims, sobering and pulling him in again. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I don’t want you to think that I’m... conning you right now, or trying to charm you like one of my marks,” Kurt explains, leaning against Blaine. His voice sounds a bit biting, like Blaine has noticed it sometimes gets when he’s worried, and his forehead is creased in obvious distress.

“Kurt, no. I won’t-– I _don’t_ think that you’re conning me.” Blaine tilts his head so he can look into Kurt’s eyes, putting emphasis on his words. “I can tell when you’re being genuine, and you’ve always been genuine with me. Well, almost always,” he assures him, knowing that Kurt will know what he’s referring to with the word ‘almost’ and not take it the wrong way. In situations like this it helps that they’ve been reading and trying to figure out each other for years. “And that smile right there was genuine,” he continues. “It was just a lot like your charmer smile, and it was... funny.” He cringes. “Sorry.”

Kurt lets out a laugh, the lines disappearing from his forehead. “So, what, I use my charmer smile when I’m trying to get into your pants?”

“It seems like that,” Blaine jokes, but then Kurt’s lips turn up into that smile again, and suddenly Blaine feels warm all over. Kurt’s hands move slowly to the small of his back and even lower this time, and he leans in to kiss Blaine, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. Blaine’s eyelids flutter closed, and he concentrates on the feeling of Kurt against him, his to figure out and learn about, his to hold and kiss and love.

Kurt is smiling into the kiss, and for a moment Blaine just floats, allows his own hands to squeeze Kurt’s waist and lets out a little hum when Kurt tilts his head just right and their mouths align perfectly. After a while he feels Kurt’s knee inching closer to his crotch, though, and he suddenly remembers where they are, the thought of Kurt being sent back to prison making him break the kiss with a gasp.

“You do realize that anyone could walk in on us?” he says in a low voice, even though he doesn’t want to stop. “This is still a public area, even if the surveillance cameras don’t cover this spot. I–- I’m actually surprised Bill hasn’t come looking for us yet.”

Kurt leans back and pouts at him. “Are you asking me to stop?”

Blaine laughs, his fingers drawing patterns on Kurt’s back. “I’m saying that this is quite risky, and we agreed to be careful.”

“I know, I know,” Kurt sighs. “It’s just... difficult, sometimes.”

Blaine gives him a sympathetic smile, leaning in to press a quick peck on his lips. “I know. I hate it too, especially on days like yesterday when I can’t spend time with you after work.”

The corners of Kurt’s mouth quirk up. “Your place tonight?” he suggests. “We could cook dinner and watch something mindless from your DVR to get our minds off robberies and indolent bank managers?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Blaine agrees. “I think I have some chicken in the freezer.”

“Perfect.” Kurt grins at him, his fingers dancing over Blaine’s back one last time before he steps away and puts some distance between them. Blaine instantly feels a little colder, a little more unsteady without Kurt so close to him, and he almost reaches out to pull him back.

Sometimes he really dislikes the official FBI rulebook.

He watches as Kurt straightens his jacket and tie, runs his fingers through the sweep of his hair and grabs the files he came for from the shelf, and only then does Blaine remember that his own tie is probably crooked as well. Kurt smiles at him in amusement when he scrambles to push himself off the bookshelf and to make sure that his clothes look the way they did when he came down to the records floor. After he’s done they step out of their safe spot together, back to the space covered by security cameras. Blaine nods at Bill when they pass the front desk, and soon they’re in the elevator on their way to the 21st floor, talking about the case as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. And perhaps it didn’t.

 

\---

 

It’s later that same day when Blaine is going through the old case files Kurt found that Tina knocks on his door, peeking into his office. He looks up, his mind momentarily continuing to go through the details of a bank robbery from a few years ago until he blinks his eyes and realizes that Tina is looking at him with an expectant expression, her eyes almost a little... worried.

“Hey Tina, come on in,” he says, gesturing for her to come inside. “What’s up?”

She steps in and closes the door slowly behind her before she faces Blaine. “I got these results from evidence. Thought you might want to see them,” she mentions, putting the papers she’s holding on Blaine’s desk.

“Thanks.” Blaine reaches out to take the papers, but something in Tina’s expression stops him. “Was that all?” he asks carefully.

Tina bites her lip for a moment, and then just blurts out, “Are you and Kurt fooling around?”

Blaine freezes, his hand stopping to hover over the papers. It feels like someone has punched the air out of his lungs, and it takes all of his willpower to school his face into something that doesn’t look completely terrified and to keep his hand from shaking.

“W-what?” he laughs out, trying to go for incredulous but probably failing at least a little.

“You and Kurt,” Tina repeats, her eyes searching his face. “There’s something going on with the two of you, and I just... Blaine, I know you have feelings for him, and I have started to accept him, I really have, but he’s still a con-man and-–”

“Wait, Tina, stop,” Blaine interrupts, letting his hand fall down on his desk. He furrows his brows, still trying to keep his real emotions from showing. “What do you mean?”

Tina sighs and pushes a strand of hair from her face. “It’s just... I’ve noticed the way you look at each other sometimes, and if you _are_ fooling around, I want to make sure that you know the risk you’re taking. Blaine, you could get fired,” she stresses. “I know you like him, but do you even know what he feels for you? Is it really worth-–”

Blaine leans back in his chair with a sigh, covering his eyes with his hand and massaging his temples with his fingertips. He knows that Tina means well, but he also knows that she loves office gossip and doesn’t trust Kurt entirely, and he just... He can’t be the only one making the decision about whether or not to tell her the truth. It could go wrong in so many ways, and that same fear that gripped his heart earlier in the records department is back again. He knows that if the truth came out, Kurt could lose a lot more than he -– Peterson and one or two of his other superiors would probably support him, but Kurt would go straight back to prison, no questions asked, and Blaine... He wouldn’t be able handle that. He couldn’t handle letting Kurt down like that, being separated from him like that.

“Does Sam know?” he finally asks tiredly, stopping Tina’s tirade.

She pauses, blinking her eyes at him. “He... We’ve both had our suspicions, but that’s-–”

Blaine gets up and walks to the door of his office, startling Tina with the sudden movement. He opens the door and leans out on to the landing.

“Kurt, Sam, could you come here for a moment?” he calls out to the lower level, waiting until they’ve both looked up from their work and nodded at him before he goes back inside.

“What are you...” Tina asks, following him with her eyes as he moves to sit down behind his desk again.

“If we’re going to talk about this, I want everyone to be present,” he says decisively, straightening his jacket and trying to ignore the way his heart is beating against his chest in anxiousness.

Kurt and Sam step inside his office a moment later, both of them looking confused when they see Tina there. Kurt takes one look at Blaine’s face, his eyes widening in a barely noticeable way, and he immediately closes the door behind them, shutting out the general chatter and hum of the office space.

“Is this about the case?” Sam asks, plopping down on one of the chairs in front of Blaine’s desk.

Blaine shakes his head, meeting Kurt’s eyes across the room. Kurt stays standing, but he moves to lean against the back wall of the room, and Blaine can’t help but notice that the way they’re situated looks almost as if it’s him and Kurt against Tina and Sam, and that’s... Tina and Sam are his friends, the best agents of his team, and he has worked with them for years, has known Sam even longer –- but right now they’re an unsolved mystery, something that could make or break him and Kurt.

“No, it’s...” he starts, glancing at Kurt one last time. “It’s about me and Kurt.”

“Ohhh,” Sam says slowly, his lips turning into a goofy grin. He winks at Blaine. “You guys are doing it, aren’t you?”

Tina’s head snaps around to stare at him. “Oh my god, Sam, this is not something to joke about!” she hisses.

“What, he’s been making heart eyes at Kurt for at least the last couple of weeks!” Sam counters, gesturing at Blaine. “I mean, it’s not _that_ obvious, but it’s obvious to me. No offense, man, but I've been able to read you like an open book ever since Quantico,” he adds.

Blaine gives a weak smile. Kurt’s arms are crossed tightly over his chest, his face an impassive mask, and Blaine wants to touch him, reassure him somehow, but he can’t do that, not yet at least. He does stare at him until he meets his eyes, though, and Blaine raises his eyebrows, hoping that the question is clear in his gaze. Kurt stays still for a moment, but then he nods imperceptibly, as if he’s saying, _fine, let’s take a chance_.

“Kurt and I...” Blaine starts, slowly moving his eyes from Kurt to Sam and Tina. “We’re not just fooling around, as Tina so eloquently put it. We’re...” He pauses, stealing one last glance of Kurt’s eyes. “We’re dating. We’re together.”

It’s silent for a moment, and Blaine desperately wants to reach out and take Kurt’s hand for support, but eventually it’s Sam who moves first, offering his fist to Blaine and exclaiming, “Dude, finally!”

“Oh god,” Tina says, the tone of her voice making Sam’s fist drop down and Blaine turn to look at her. “Blaine, I know you have feelings for him, but how can you even know that he has feelings for you too?” She looks Kurt up and down. “I mean, no offence, but you’re basically known for lying and conning people, and...”

Blaine’s fingers instinctively flex over the desk. He opens his mouth to say something, but Kurt beats him to it, pushing himself off the wall and looking at Tina straight in the eyes.

“Do you really think I would risk everything I have just to con Blaine?” he asks in an incredulous voice. “This life is all I have now, and if I mess up I go straight back to prison. Do you really think I would risk all this just so I could, I don’t know, get even with the FBI agent who caught me and offered me a chance to do something worthwhile?”

Tina splutters for a moment before she takes a deep breath and straightens her back. “I don’t know, Kurt,” she replies haughtily. “I can’t read you, I don’t _know_ you like I know Blaine-–”

“I love him,” Kurt interrupts, and the way he says it makes Blaine turn around and stare at him, something warm and amazed rippling through his body. Kurt’s voice is even and resolute, without any hesitation or doubt, and it makes even Tina close her mouth in astonishment. “That’s why I’m willing to risk everything,” Kurt continues, looking almost severe as he says it. “I’m willing to risk whatever it takes because he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Sam is grinning like a mad man, and Blaine can’t help it, he can’t stop himself -– he reaches out and takes Kurt’s hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing his knuckles because standing up and kissing his lips would be too grand a gesture with the stupid glass walls of his office. Kurt turns to look at him, a sudden blush darkening his cheeks as a soft smile lights up his face, and he tangles their fingers together, stroking his thumb over Blaine’s knuckles.

“You're the best thing that's ever happened to me,” Blaine breathes out. He doesn’t care that it’s only been a month, he doesn’t care that Tina and Sam are still staring at them, because Kurt just said that he loved him, and Blaine feels like he could jump on his desk and sing his heart out for the first time in years. “And I love you too.”

Kurt’s smile widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his nose scrunching up like he can’t contain his joy, and it’s the most beautiful thing Blaine has ever seen.

“B-but-–” Tina interrupts, looking between the two of them. “You could be sent back to prison. And Blaine, you could lose your job! I mean, I know that those old rumors have started to die down after Kurt took care of you when you were shot, but it’s still against the rules, no matter what the team would think.”

“We know,” Blaine sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Which is why I’m hoping you will keep this to yourselves. We’re trying to keep this under the wraps, and the only reason I -– we –- told you is because you asked and because I know I can trust you. But if someone else asks about it, we’re...” He stops, squeezing Kurt’s hand.

“We’re going to lie,” Kurt finishes softly. “The stakes are bit too high to tell the truth, even if I'm trying to lie less,” he adds with a smile.

Sam nods. “Yeah, of course. I don’t want to get you in trouble.” He grins. “I’m just happy that you guys figured things out. It was looking kind of bad for a moment there.” He offers his fist to Blaine again, and this time Blaine bumps it with a laugh.

“What about you, Tina?” Kurt asks, and there’s a clear challenge in his voice.

Tina looks up from her hands, taking in their expectant expressions. “I... Of course I’m not going to tell anyone,” she promises. “I’m just worried that this’ll cause some problems for our work.”

“It won’t,” Blaine says. “We’ll keep working the way we always have before.”

Tina looks between them, her brows furrowed. “I guess you’re pretty serious about this then? I just... I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed anything earlier. I’m an agent, I’m supposed to notice things.”

Kurt raises his eyebrows. “I’d be a pretty crappy ex-con-man if you had noticed this,” he points out.

Tina gives a laugh, and it almost feels like a truce to Blaine, like Tina is finally willing to bury her suspicions about Kurt. It’s comforting, to know that at least his closest friends accept him and Kurt, that there are two people they don’t have to hide from, even if the rest of the Bureau can never know. He leans back in his chair, smiling to himself. This went a lot better than he anticipated.

“Thanks for this, guys,” he says quietly.

Sam stretches his arms above his head, rolling his eyes. “Dude, we’re a team. This is what teams do. We fight crime and protect each other.”

Kurt squeezes Blaine’s hand and then disentangles their fingers, moving to grab one of the remaining chairs and dragging it closer to the desk. “Speaking of crimes,” he starts, changing the subject. “I was going through the old case files, and I think I have a few possible suspects for our bank robbery.”

Blaine grins, taking the papers he abandoned earlier and laying them in the middle of his desk so they can all see them. “Same here. Shall we compare notes?”

Tina pulls out her notepad and pen from her pocket, flipping the pad open and posing the pen over it. Sam drops his hands down and starts looking over the papers as Kurt explains the case he found from five years ago that has a similar M.O. as their current one, exactly the same case that caught Blaine’s attention as well, and it feels so seamless, so easy, like everything’s okay. A sense of gratitude washes over Blaine, and when he looks over to Kurt, watching the way he moves his hands as he explains the case, the way he makes eye contact with all three of them as the pieces of the case click into place, Blaine feels more like home than he ever has before.

These people, Kurt especially -– they are his safety net. His home.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating for this fic is now R, gasp! Or M or NC-17, I really don't know what their difference is. But you know. There is ~sex~ in this chapter. It's not that porny, and it's actually the first sex scene I've ever written (technically the second, but the first one is never seeing the light of day) and they are definitely not my forte, so please be kind and understanding. *bites her fingernails*
> 
> Endless thanks to my dear [Essihöntti](http://crispyhush.tumblr.com), who made me giggle like a maniac when I was nervous about this chapter. You're the best, darling. ♥

Blaine hums under his breath as he skips up the stairs to Kurt’s loft, his gym bag banging against his hip with his movements. He feels loose and tired in a good way, like he always does when he’s been boxing, and the thin undershirt he’s wearing underneath his other clothes is still sweaty and clinging to his skin. He needs some food and a shower, not necessarily in that order, and he can’t help but grin when he wonders if he could persuade Kurt to share the shower with him. They do have time for something like that -– Blaine fed Perry right before he left for the gym, so she should be alright even if they spent some more time at Kurt’s loft tonight.

His humming gets a little louder when he reaches the top floor, and he belatedly realizes that he’s actually humming _Silly Love Songs_ , practically mouthing the words, and god, you’d think he would get tired of being so in love at some point, but obviously that’s not happening any time soon. Or ever. It’s such a welcome contrast to his work life, to crimes and having to see the worst parts of people almost every day, that he’s definitely not letting go of this feeling.

He slows to a stop outside the door to Kurt’s apartment, his humming halting when he notices that the door is ajar and he can hear shouting voices coming from inside. Voices in plural. Two of them. Kurt and someone else, a woman whose voice Blaine doesn’t think he recognizes, and his hand automatically reaches for the holster he’s not wearing right now.

“–-you just have to meddle in other people’s business!” Kurt’s voice yells, sounding upset and annoyed.

“She misses you!” the woman shouts back in a loud, piercing voice. “She keeps asking about you, and I have no clue what to tell her because I’m not going to lie to her but I also don’t know what you would want me to say to her, and hell, Kurt, she’s my friend too!”

Blaine lowers his hand. This doesn’t sound like Kurt is in danger or like it’s something that requires the presence of an FBI agent. He doesn’t want to eavesdrop on Kurt’s private conversations, not when there is still such a careful line between the things Kurt will tell him and the things he won’t talk about, so Blaine decides to just back away. Maybe he could take a walk around the block before he texts Kurt and lets him know that he’s on his way.

Right when he is about to turn around and head back down the stairs he hears footsteps from the loft, coming towards the door, and Kurt’s voice saying, “Oh my god, I can’t believe you just waltzed in here like that and you even _left the door open_ , what is wrong with-–”

The rest of the sentence is cut off because at that moment Kurt pulls the door all the way open, stopping in his tracks when he notices Blaine standing on the landing, caught with his other foot on the uppermost step. Blaine looks at Kurt over his shoulder, and Kurt stares back at him, his whole body still and tense until something seems to snap inside of him and he blinks his eyes a few times.

“Blaine,” he breathes out. “What...”

“Sorry –- I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” Blaine says quickly. He reaches out across the landing and squeezes Kurt’s wrist with a reassuring smile. “I can go and come back later if...”

“Did you say Blaine?” the woman’s voice comes from the apartment. Blaine can hear the sound of heels clicking against the floor, and then there’s a dark-haired woman standing behind Kurt, looking Blaine up and down, her eyes calculating and a little curious. “Well well well, you’re certainly not what I imagined you to be, Mr. Suit,” she comments, her lips turning into a grin.

Blaine leans away in surprise, frowning at the woman. “Thanks? I’m... not really sure if that was a compliment or not.”

“When it comes to her, probably not,” Kurt sighs, dragging his hand over the back of his neck. He seems edgier than Blaine has ever seen him before, an annoyed fire burning in his eyes. “Blaine, this is... This is Santana. She’s an old friend. Of sorts.”

“Santana Lopez, charmed,” Santana practically purrs, pushing Kurt aside and extending her hand to Blaine through the doorway. “And you’re Blaine Anderson, Lady Hummel’s new federal boyfriend.”

Blaine blinks at her, but his manners make him take her hand and shake it anyway. She has long nails that look almost a bit dangerous, and Blaine has spent enough time around criminals to realize that Santana probably is one. Or at least has been one at some point in her life.

“Um. It’s nice to meet you?” he says carefully, glancing at Kurt from the corner of his eye.

“She was just leaving,” Kurt interrupts, grabbing Blaine’s arm and pulling him inside the loft as he pushes Santana out of the door at the same time. Blaine stumbles in, his gym bag dropping from his shoulder onto the floor with a loud thud.

“Kurt, you didn’t tell me your agent friend was this short,” Santana laughs, not even resisting as Kurt pushes her shoulders until she’s standing on the landing.

“Just... Go, San. Please.” Kurt sounds tired all of a sudden, and both Blaine and Santana stop. Blaine knows that tone of voice, remembers it from months and months ago from that day when he found Kurt Hummel in an empty apartment and all he wanted to do was to reach out and show some gesture of kindness. Things are different now, _they_ are different, so this time he does reach out, resting his fingertips tentatively on the small of Kurt’s back, out of Santana’s line of sight.

Kurt leans into the touch, the muscles on his back relaxing slightly.

“Okay,” Santana acquiesces. Her eyes soften as she looks between Blaine and Kurt, looking almost... satisfied, like she’s seeing something she approves of. “Will you at least consider talking to Berry?” she tags on, her voice hardening again.

Kurt sighs, leaning more into Blaine’s touch, but eventually he does nod. When he speaks, his voice sounds confident again, the way Blaine is used to hearing it. “I’ll think about it. Just to keep her out of your hair, I suppose.”

“Gee, thanks, Hummel.” Santana smirks. “I’ll see you around. It was nice meeting you, Suit,” she adds, giving Blaine a salute before she turns around and saunters down the stairs.

Kurt closes the door quietly behind her and turns around. He stares at Blaine for a moment, his eyes looking somewhere far away until they seem to focus, and then his arms are around Blaine, his hands grabbing the back of his coat and squeezing him tightly. Blaine instinctively wraps his own arms around Kurt, lifting his chin so he can hook it over Kurt’s shoulder and stroking his hands calmly down Kurt’s back, over his shoulder blades and all the way to the small of his back. Kurt exhales against him, the rest of the tension melting from his body.

“You’re sweaty and you smell disgusting,” he mumbles against Blaine’s shoulder after a moment.

Blaine lets out a laugh, petting Kurt’s back. “Sorry. The locker room at the gym was so packed that I just pulled on some more clothes and came here.” He hesitates, softening his voice. “I hope I didn’t interrupt-–”

“No, no, she just...” Kurt lifts his head and huffs. “Santana has this habit of coming to visit me when I least expect it. You remember that time when I stepped outside my radius?” Blaine nods, confused. “She’s the person I met back then.”

Blaine startles, surprised by the honest admission. Kurt has been trusting him more and more every day, but there are still things in his past he doesn’t talk about, things that make him shake his head if Blaine happens to bring them up, and usually people from his past are one of them. It’s okay -– Blaine loves him, secrets and all, and he knows that Kurt will tell him if and when he’s ready -– but this is the first time he’s met someone from Kurt’s life from _before_ , before prison, before the empty apartment and the deal with the FBI. The first time Kurt hasn’t shaken his head about something from before.

“Oh,” Blaine says eventually, thinking it over. “So she’s like family?”

Kurt laughs, sudden and unexpected. “Yeah, and family can be a real pain in the ass every now and then.”

“Understatement of the century,” Blaine agrees easily. “Do you... Do you want to talk about it, or...?”

Kurt looks away for a moment, frowning. “It’s kind of a mess, but actually... Yeah, I do.” He glances back at Blaine, a smile that doesn’t seem so tense playing on his face. “It’d be good to talk about it with someone who isn’t so involved. I mean, you are involved, because of me and _us_ , but you’re still not-–”

“I get it.” Blaine pecks Kurt’s lips quickly before leaning away, secretly smiling at Kurt referring to them as an  _us_. “What if I’ll go take that shower and we’ll talk then? I do feel pretty gross.”

Kurt wrinkles his nose. “Mmm, good idea. I’m having a hard time deciding whether to feel disgusted or turned on right now. Did you have fun boxing?”

“I did,” Blaine says, stretching his shoulders a little. “It was like... therapy, I suppose? Trying to get all those never-ending copyright infringement cases out of my head.”

“I know what you mean.” Kurt gestures towards the large windows of the loft, and only now Blaine notices that there is an easel set out in front of one of the windows, pencils and paints scattered on the small table next to it. There’s a painting drying on the easel, flowing lines of clothes suitable for the most extravagant party Blaine could ever imagine shining from the canvas, and the sketchbook placed on the stool in front of the easel seems to have several pages full of similar outfits.

“Can I take a look?” Blaine asks, his fingers already itching to flip through the sketchbook. He knows how gorgeous Kurt’s drawings and paintings are –- he has hidden practically all the sketches Kurt has left lying around Blaine’s apartment or the office in the same wooden box that holds the birthday cards Kurt used to send him from prison, and sometimes when they’ve had a rough day at work and he hasn’t been able to spend as much time with Kurt as they’d both like, he opens the box and goes through the sketches and cards and notes, letting them steal his breath away.

Kurt grins and pushes him towards the bathroom. “Go take that shower, Blaine,” he teases, “or I’m going to change my mind about that talk.”

 

\---

 

When Blaine emerges from the shower, combing his fingers through his damp curls and wearing relaxed -– and clean -– clothes, he finds Kurt sitting cross-legged on the small couch in the living room, a case file spread open over his lap. Kurt’s index finger is sliding absent-mindedly over the monitor around his left ankle, drawing patterns on its black plastic.

“Hey,” Blaine says as flops down on the sofa next to Kurt, shuffling around until he’s comfortable. Kurt looks up from the file and smiles. “You do know that you don’t have to take the files home with you every evening?” Blaine asks.

“I know,” Kurt says. He closes the file and puts it away, lifting his knees and turning around until he’s facing Blaine on the couch and can slide his toes between Blaine’s thigh and the seat cushion. “So.”

“So,” Blaine repeats. “Santana.”

“I honestly don’t even know where to begin,” Kurt sighs, playing with his fingers, a nervous gesture Blaine is already familiar with. “I’ve known her since high school, and she’s just...”

“Hey,” Blaine interrupts when Kurt trails off. “I just want you to know that I’m... I’m not Agent Anderson right now, okay? So even if you forget the occasional ‘allegedly’ from your sentences, you or Santana are not going to get in trouble.” He pauses, frowning. “Unless you’ve... Have either of you ever killed anyone or-–”

“God no,” Kurt rushes to say, shaking his head. “I mean, I sometimes wanted to kill her when she was being especially annoying, but...”

Blaine chuckles, resting his hand over Kurt’s knee. “Alright. Then tell me whatever you want to tell.”

Kurt leans back, staring at the ceiling and pursing his lips in thought. “Well, like I said, I met her in high school. She was a friend, and then when I moved to New York after high school she ended up as my second roommate, and when...” He stops and swallows, his fingers flexing in his lap. “When I started my life of crime,” he continues, and Blaine knows he’s leaving something out, but it’s not his place to ask, not right now. “When I started my life of crime, I found out that she had been doing the same for some time already. She was the one who taught me how to pick pockets, actually,” Kurt laughs. “We knew each other, so it was easy working with her, even if she never really cared about the bigger cons. She was happy with just, I don’t know, getting by without going abroad or trying to forge the great masters or anything like that.”

Blaine hums, squeezing Kurt’s knee. “I had a feeling that she was a, erm, con-woman.”

Kurt looks back down, his eyes a little wary as he searches Blaine’s face. “She was. But she has a real job now, and she told me she doesn’t do that anymore.”

“I’m not going to arrest her, Kurt,” Blaine assures him. “This is off the record. All of our personal conversations are off the record.”

Kurt’s eyes soften and he places his own hand over Blaine’s for a moment. “I know, I know. I just... need the reassurance every now and then. Old habits and all that.” He shrugs.

Blaine smiles. “So... Santana is your friend. What’s the mess you were talking about then?”

“Ugh,” Kurt groans, resting his cheek against the backrest of the couch and rolling his eyes. “She wants me to talk to this mutual friend of ours whom I haven’t seen in years. And the last time I did see her, we didn’t exactly part amicably.”

“How so?” Blaine asks carefully, stroking Kurt’s knee. Kurt is a private person, even around Blaine, which is no surprise considering his previous line of work. It’s just a part of him, the way he can be incredibly open in certain areas of his life –- with his clothes and his opinions, never afraid of expressing himself –- and at the same time be very closed-off about others. But this, this is different; even if Blaine is trying to be as careful as possible, he can still see how the words are almost waiting to get out of Kurt’s mouth, as if he has kept them locked inside of himself for far too long and now they’re forcing their way out, right in front of Blaine.

“She...” Kurt frowns, looking down at his lap, his fingers moving restlessly. “She was going through a bit of rough time herself back then, but so was I, and... She obviously didn’t approve of my new criminal lifestyle, and when she told me her opinion we argued and she said some things in the heat of the moment that-–” He shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest in a defensive gesture. “Let’s just say that I didn’t take them too well. So I walked out and never looked back.” He takes a deep breath, still not meeting Blaine’s eyes. “I mean, I know now that we were both to blame for that falling-out, and I can understand that she was just trying to help me, even if she went about it the wrong way, but...”

“You miss her,” Blaine says quietly.

Kurt startles. “What?”

Blaine leans closer, reaching out to pull Kurt’s arms away from his chest and taking his hands in his own. He looks into Kurt’s eyes and gives him an encouraging smile. “I can see it in your eyes. You miss her, don’t you?”

Kurt puffs out his cheeks but doesn’t withdraw his hands. “She’s a diva, and an annoying one at that.”

“Broadway stars can be like that.” Blaine shrugs.

Kurt freezes.

“Don’t freak out,” Blaine rushes to say, squeezing Kurt’s hands. “I haven’t looked into it or anything, I promise -– I just heard Santana mention someone called Berry right when she was leaving, and I remembered how you were acting that one time when we were talking about that new West Side Story revival, and I just... put two and two together.” He pauses, hoping he hasn’t crossed any lines but still wanting to make sure. “Your friend... It’s Rachel Berry, isn’t it?”

Kurt’s whole body stays rigid for a moment or two, anxious and coiled tight, his hands still in Blaine’s grip –- but then he breathes out a slow, shuddering breath, his muscles relaxing in time with the movement of his chest as if he’s forcing himself to calm down. Every time this happens, every time Blaine manages to say or do the right thing and Kurt doesn’t bolt or recoil away from him, he thinks that maybe he knows what he’s doing after all. Maybe he’s not the only one who feels more like himself when it’s just the two of them, with no agents around them, no pretenses or secrets.

“I’m surprised that you still remember her name,” Kurt eventually says. His fingers twitch against Blaine’s.

“West Side Story is one of my favorites,” Blaine reminds him and squeezes his hand with a small smile. “And I might have made a mental note of her name after you said you’d seen her in something years and years ago,” he adds sheepishly.

Kurt huffs out a laugh. “Always the agent,” he teases, but there’s no resentment or anger behind his words.

“Kurt,” Blaine ventures after a moment. “From what Santana said, she seems to miss you too. Was it... Was your falling-out for good?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt mumbles. He starts playing with Blaine’s fingers this time, spreading them over his own hand and then slotting them together again. “I haven’t talked to her in over... nine years. God, has it really been that long? Five years on the run and four years in prison, and I never even...”

“Do you want to talk to her?” Blaine asks.

Kurt laughs, but it sounds sad and a little bitter. “Blaine, I haven’t even seen her in nine years. Unless you count seeing her face on posters and advertisements, which I don’t. I have no idea what I’d say to her, and we would probably just end up insulting each other. Again.” He shakes his head. “Let’s be honest, she most likely still sees me as a petty criminal.”

Something tightens around Blaine’s heart, painful and cold. Every time Kurt says the word ‘criminal’ it sounds a lot like the word ‘failure’.

“Kurt...” Blaine frees his hand and cups Kurt’s face, waiting until Kurt meets his eyes. There’s still that edge in his gaze, the one that’s been there ever since Blaine interrupted his shouting match with Santana, and it makes Blaine’s whole being ache to know that there are so many hurtful things about Kurt’s past that he doesn’t even know about. “She’s been asking about you. That’s a pretty good sign, don’t you think? I mean, I only met Santana for a moment, but she did strike me as the kind of a person you wouldn’t want to pester about anything,” he jokes.

Kurt lets out a laugh. “Oh, but you don’t know Rachel. She’s stubborn, and she knows how to deal with Santana.”

Blaine thinks for a moment, lowering his hand back down on Kurt’s knee again. “If you don’t know what you would say to her, maybe you could just...”

“Go see her? To see how that would make me feel?” Kurt finishes for him, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a lopsided smile. “That was my first thought too, when I saw those ads for that West Side Story revival and when Santana first brought this up last week. But it’s still outside my radius.” He taps his finger against the green light on his ankle monitor.

“Not if you have an agent with you,” Blaine points out.

Kurt looks up, surprised. “Are you...”

“Just... Think about it,” Blaine says. “I’m not saying that you have to talk to her, or even see her -– that’s your decision –- but it seems clear to me that you do miss her. And if you want to go see that play, I would love to go with you. If you want me to accompany you, I mean.”

“There were a lot of ifs in that sentence,” Kurt grins, and Blaine is relieved to notice that his eyes don’t seem that edgy anymore.

“She’s your friend.” Blaine shrugs. “I’ll support you whatever you choose to do.”

Kurt’s expression turns a little dazed at that, and Blaine smiles down at him as he pushes himself off the couch, leaning in to peck Kurt’s lips when he stands up. “I’ll go make us something to eat,” he murmurs against Kurt’s mouth.

He’s already halfway to the kitchen when Kurt calls after him, “Do you want to take a look at those sketches I made today?”

Blaine stops, and he can’t help the way his face breaks into a smile when he turns around. Kurt is still sitting on the sofa, grinning at Blaine in that special way that makes his heart beat a little faster every single time.

In that special way that reminds him that no matter what has happened in the past, Kurt is here now, and he doesn’t seem to be going anywhere any time soon.

“I’d love to,” Blaine breathes out.

“Then bring me some food and we’ll see what happens,” Kurt replies and winks at him.

 

\---

 

Three days later Blaine steps into his office after his lunch break and finds two tickets to West Side Story waiting for him on his desk.

 

\---

 

It’s been a while since the last time Blaine saw a show on Broadway, and when he and Kurt find their seats -– very good seats; Kurt Hummel happens to be a Broadway connoisseur and Blaine didn’t expect anything less from him -– he looks around the space, at the patterns covering the walls, the stage lights hanging above their heads and the heavy curtains obstructing the stage. The theatre is packed, people fanning themselves with their playbills and chattering all around them, and for a moment Blaine lets himself remember those daydreams he had as a kid, of being up there on that stage and captivating the audience with his voice.

He loves his job and wouldn’t change a thing, but every time he steps inside a theatre he can’t help but wonder for a fleeting moment what it could’ve been like.

“What was the last musical you saw?” Kurt asks next to him, smoothing his hands down the front of his jacket.

Blaine turns to look at him properly, feeling his breath catch in his throat just like it did the first time he saw Kurt’s outfit this evening. Kurt always looks gorgeous, no matter what he’s wearing, whether it’s a designer suit or an old t-shirt with paint stains and charcoal smudges, or even nothing at all –- but he looks especially amazing right now in an impeccably fitting silvery gray suit, the lines of the jacket making his shoulders look even broader and the color bringing out the blue of his eyes.

He’s wearing a tie instead of the usual bowtie, and Blaine definitely felt accomplished earlier when he came to pick up Kurt and the first words out of Kurt’s mouth were, “I can’t believe I finally get to see you in a bowtie, Agent Anderson.”

Blaine presses his fingers against his bowtie with a smile and thinks for a moment. “It’s been a while, but I think it was... Wicked? A year or two ago?”

“I saw Wicked as well the last time I went to see a show,” Kurt reminisces. “But it was actually in London. Right before I came back to New York and got arrested for the first time in my life,” he adds with a grin.

“Ah, so that’s where you were hiding,” Blaine comments, grinning back. He realizes that Kurt is fiddling with his cufflinks and with the sleeves of his shirt, and his smile softens. “Are you nervous?”

“Isn’t this against the whole ‘let’s keep our relationship a secret’ rule?” Kurt changes the subject, glancing around the theatre.

Blaine reaches out and squeezes Kurt’s arm comfortingly. “If we happen to run into someone from the office -– which isn’t exactly likely because I don’t think anyone from my team likes musicals as much as you and I do -– we can just act the way we do at work. Even if they don’t know that we’re dating, they all know that we’re friends.”

“And friends can go to theatre together, even if they’re an agent and a CI?” Kurt asks, lifting one of his eyebrows.

“Yes,” Blaine stresses. “I’d also like to remind you that there’s no way Rachel will be able see you from that stage, so you can calm down.”

Kurt huffs out a laugh, but he does stop playing with his cufflinks, his shoulders dropping down.

The show is wonderful -– it manages to get through just the right emotions that every production of West Side Story should, and all the actors and actresses show the right amount of defiance and vulnerability in their roles. The man playing Tony has a breath-taking voice, and Blaine automatically reaches out his hand towards Kurt during the last note of _Something’s Coming_ , only to have his fingers bump into Kurt’s outstretched hand halfway through, both of them laughing under their breaths when they applaud after the song.

Still, Blaine can’t help but pay a little extra attention to Rachel –- to the way she belts out the highest notes of _Tonight_ , the way she dances around the stage in giddy happiness during _I Feel Pretty_ –- and it’s easy to see why she has gotten such praising reviews. She is so completely inside her role that Blaine keeps forgetting that the woman on the stage is actually Kurt’s old friend, someone he misses and cares about, instead of a young Puerto Rican girl falling in love for the first and possibly only time in her life.

When the play reaches its finale, with Tony singing his last words in Maria’s arms, Blaine is blinking tears from his eyes and cursing himself for not taking any tissues with him. He should always remember tissues when he’s going to see West Side Story, but he was so nervous and excited that he forgot all about them.

He is about to lean closer to Kurt, perhaps ask him if he could borrow his pocket square, when he notices that Kurt’s hands are gripping the armrests of his seat so tightly that his knuckles have turned white. There are silent tears streaming down Kurt’s cheeks, visible in the soft light shining from the stage, and Blaine doesn’t have to follow Kurt’s line of sight to know that he’s staring at Rachel.

“ _Somehow, someday, somewhere..._ ” she sings quietly on the stage, holding the actor playing Tony, her voice fading out until only the orchestra is playing the last notes of the song.

Kurt’s chest heaves and he lets out a sob, the sound of it lost in the music and the sniffles coming from the audience all around them, but it still echoes through Blaine’s ears. More tears fall down Kurt’s cheeks, and Blaine feels his heart crack inside his chest. He knows he can’t take away the pain Kurt has gone through, can’t take away the fissures left on his soul from years and years of being alone and on the run.

But he can still try.

Blaine grabs Kurt’s hand, gently easing his fingers away from the armrest and tangling them with his own instead, holding them as tightly as he dares. Kurt startles, his eyes snapping from the stage to Blaine, unshed tears shining in his eyes –- and _god_ , Blaine loves him so much. He can feel tears pooling in his own eyes as well, but he still gives a small smile to Kurt, trying to somehow say everything with his facial expression alone, and it must work because Kurt gives him a watery, overwhelmed smile in return.

On the stage Maria is screaming at the Jets and Sharks, telling them how they killed Tony with their hate, Rachel Berry’s voice breaking and shaking as she gives the best performance of her life; and in the audience Kurt holds on to Blaine’s hand, his grip so tight that Blaine can barely feel his fingers, but he’s not going to let go.

The show gets a standing ovation when it’s over, and Blaine and Kurt finally disentangle their hands to applaud the production. Blaine keeps looking at Rachel Berry as he claps his hands, not really sure what to think about anything. When Rachel straightens up from her second bow she seems to be staring right at them, right at him and Kurt. Blaine can see her squint her eyes in confusion, but then the moment is over and she’s looking around the theatre again, smiling her thanks in every direction.

“She saw me,” Kurt whispers next to Blaine, barely audible over the roar of the audience.

 

\---

 

They stumble inside Kurt’s loft some time later, after a quiet ride back from the theatre, and Blaine clicks the hallway light on as Kurt goes straight to the kitchen without a word, loosening his tie on his way.

Blaine asked Ms. Avninder to look after Perry tonight and they don’t have work tomorrow, so he shrugs off his jacket, hangs it in the coat rack near the door and toes off his shoes, looking around the apartment when he’s done. Most of the loft is shrouded in shadows, and Kurt’s easel is in its place in front of the window, framed by the night sky and the pale skyglow from New York’s city lights. There’s a new painting set out on the easel, but Blaine can’t make out what it’s about in the dim lighting.

He loosens his own bowtie and follows Kurt into the kitchen, his feet shuffling against the floor. Kurt is leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping from a glass of water and staring into nothing, his tie gone and the uppermost buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a pale sliver of skin.

“Are you alright?” Blaine asks carefully, leaning against the counter next to Kurt so that their shoulders bump together.

Kurt lowers the glass from his lips and turns to look at Blaine, his eyes shining in the low light coming in from the window. He looks so beautiful that Blaine just wants to lean in and kiss him, but he needs to know how Kurt is feeling at first.

Kurt takes a deep breath and places the glass on the counter with a small clink. “I’m actually more alright than I thought I would be.”

Blaine wraps his arm around Kurt’s shoulders and pulls him closer. “So... going to see her wasn’t a bad idea?”

Kurt shakes his head, a small genuine smile turning the corners of his lips up. “No, definitely not. I mean, it was rough, and I was a bit terrified for a moment when she clearly looked right at me, but... You were right. I have missed her.” He rests his head against Blaine’s shoulder. “She was my best friend for years, so no wonder.”

“She’s an amazing performer,” Blaine offers, not really knowing what else to say.

“She is,” Kurt agrees. “I always knew it, but seeing her up on that stage, singing her heart out and looking so at home... I’m really happy for her.”

Blaine presses a small kiss on Kurt’s temple. “Of course you are,” he murmurs. “Do you think you’re going to talk to her someday?”

Kurt takes another breath, straightening up and looking into Blaine’s eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I probably will. It’s going to take time, and we’ll probably hurt each other in the process, but I... It would be nice to have her back in my life, if she’s willing to have me back in hers.”

“I’m sure she is,” Blaine assures him, thinking about that split-second moment when Rachel seemed to be staring right at them, how her eyes looked astonished and surprised even from where Blaine was standing. She didn’t look upset or sad.

Kurt smiles and wraps his arms around Blaine, pulling him closer until he can seal their lips together. It’s slow and sensual, but Blaine can feel the heat behind the kiss, the way Kurt’s fingers are slowly tugging the back of his shirt from his pants and stroking over the small of his back. Blaine kisses Kurt’s mouth one last time and then starts trailing his lips lower, mouthing over Kurt’s jawline until he reaches his neck, biting gently at the tender spot right above Kurt’s collarbone, and Kurt lets out a small gasp, tilting his head back and exposing his neck even more.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Blaine murmurs against the curve where Kurt’s neck meets his shoulder, trailing his nose along the hinge of Kurt’s jaw. He knows what he wants to do right now, knows that the time is right and can practically feel the anticipation of it seeping into his body, but he needs to know it’s something Kurt wants as well.

“I don’t want you to stop,” Kurt says in a low voice, pulling the last part of Blaine’s shirt tail from his pants and immediately pushing his hands underneath the fabric, his long fingers mapping out the muscles in Blaine’s lower back.

“No but-– tell me if you-–”

“I will, Blaine, I promise I will. Now can you just please keep doing what you’re doing?” Kurt gasps out, his body sliding against Blaine’s.

Blaine lets out a soft laugh and lifts his mouth to capture Kurt’s lips again. He slowly pushes Kurt’s jacket from his shoulders, never breaking the kiss, and blindly folds it over the kitchen stool with his other hand. Kurt’s fingers slide from Blaine’s back to his chest, loosening the bowtie all the way open and pulling it away from his collar just as he starts unbuttoning Kurt’s shirt, slowly kissing the corner of his mouth.

“Bedroom?” Blaine whispers when he’s halfway done with the buttons, his fingers brushing over the skin of Kurt’s stomach and feeling the way Kurt shivers with every touch.

“Bedroom,” Kurt repeats and starts walking backwards, pulling Blaine with him.

By the time Blaine manages to steer them towards the bed, both of them giggling breathlessly between kisses, Kurt’s shirt has already fallen to the floor and Blaine’s hands have moved to his belt. Kurt is working on Blaine’s shirt, quickly popping the buttons and pushing it off, a frustrated noise making its way through his throat when the cuffs catch on Blaine’s wrists until he yanks them free.

Blaine drops Kurt’s belt on the floor and has just enough time to open Kurt’s pants and push them down when the backs of Kurt’s knees hit the edge of the mattress and they fall on the bed, Kurt’s surprised yelp muffled by Blaine’s lips. Blaine starts pushing his own pants down as Kurt kicks off his shoes, and then they’re both wriggling out of their pants and trying to help each other at the same time, neither one of them wanting to separate for any longer than necessary even if undressing would probably be easier that way.

Eventually Blaine hears the sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor, and he sits up with his legs on either side of Kurt’s thighs, looking at Kurt lying almost naked underneath him as he tries to catch his breath. Kurt is breathing heavily as well, his chest rising and falling where Blaine’s hand is resting over his pale skin. There’s a soft smile playing on his lips when he looks at Blaine, and Blaine feels his heart fluttering against his chest, so happy and in love that he feels like he’s going to burst from it.

“Hi,” he breathes out eventually, stroking his hands down Kurt’s sides.

Kurt snorts out a laugh, free and unguarded. “Hi yourself. Are you going to continue kissing me now, or am I just supposed to lie here and let you stare at me?”

“You’re just... You’re so gorgeous, Kurt,” Blaine whispers but bends down to kiss Kurt anyway, his heart skipping another beat when he can feel Kurt smiling into the kiss.

“So are you,” Kurt says, his hands mapping Blaine’s skin from his back to his sides and arms and neck until he can cup the back of his head and run his fingers through his hair, breaking his curls free from the small amount of gel Blaine had put in them earlier that evening.

“I...” Blaine starts, swallowing and leaning away until he’s hovering over Kurt. “Let me take care of you tonight,” he says, searching Kurt’s face. “Is that okay?”

Kurt blinks in surprise, his fingers stilling in Blaine’s hair. It’s quiet for a while, just their heavy breathing echoing around them and the distant hum of the city coming from somewhere far away, but then Kurt’s lips turn into a small, loving smile and he strains his neck to kiss Blaine, pressing their mouths together for a moment until he flops back down on the bed, his smile looking a bit overwhelmed.

“Okay,” he says, and it sounds like a promise.

Blaine smiles and leans in to kiss him again, slow and sweet, taking his time to taste every inch of Kurt’s lips until he licks into his mouth, swallowing the small sigh that Kurt lets out. His fingers start drawing patterns on Kurt’s skin, sliding over the fine hair on his chest, over the sensitive spots near his ribs that make Kurt tremble beneath him, over the curve of his hipbones. Blaine trails his mouth lower, kissing Kurt’s chin and jawline, down his neck and over his collarbones, sucking messy, open-mouthed kisses on his chest and stomach while his hands ease Kurt’s underwear over the curve of his ass and down his legs. Kurt is shivering and breathing heavily under him, his fingers gripping the sheets tightly, and Blaine can feels his eyes following his every movement, waiting but trusting.

Blaine kisses the short hairs below Kurt’s navel, stroking his hands up and down his thighs, and when Kurt’s breath hitches somewhere above him on the bed, he knows he should stop teasing. He slowly lowers his mouth over Kurt, taking him into his mouth, and Kurt gasps, his hips instinctively twitching up and his fingers grabbing the back of Blaine’s head as if he doesn’t know what to hold on to anymore.

“B-Blaine,” he stutters out, and Blaine hums, knowing how much Kurt likes the vibrations it causes. Kurt moans, just as he predicted, his voice breaking in the middle of it.

Blaine bobs his head, letting his tongue slide over Kurt's cock, tasting him in his mouth, and then he inches his other hand between Kurt’s legs, stroking his index finger over the tender skin until he finds what he’s looking for. Kurt makes a choked-off noise, and then he’s pushing Blaine’s mouth off, scrambling away. Blaine sits back, immediately worried that he’d gone too far or done something wrong, but Kurt doesn’t look upset -– he actually looks kind of wild, rummaging through the drawer of his bedside table until he seems to find what he’s looking for and throws it at Blaine. It hits Blaine square in the chest, bouncing off and falling down on the bed between them.

Blaine looks at the bottle of lube in front of him for a moment and then lifts his head to look at Kurt, licking his lips.

“You, Blaine Anderson,” Kurt breathes out, his voice shaky, “are going to be the death of me.”

Blaine laughs hoarsely, crawling over to Kurt so he can kiss him and pin him against the bed. “Hopefully not.”

It’s the first time they’ve done it like this, so Blaine keeps kissing Kurt as he preps him, nipping at his lips and taking his time until Kurt is writhing on the bed and whining out his name. When Blaine finally lines himself up, pauses for a moment and then starts pushing in, Kurt pulls him closer, wrapping his arms and legs around him until there’s practically no space between them, skin against skin. Blaine can feel the way Kurt’s mouth drops open against the curve of his shoulder when he presses in all the way, a warm exhale of breath tickling his skin. He pauses to take a breath of his own, his hands trembling under Kurt’s back and his nose somewhere near Kurt’s cheek, feeling nothing but sweaty skin and love and _Kurt_.

Kurt’s legs tighten around him, pushing him closer. “Move,” he asks breathlessly.

Blaine complies and rocks into him, pulling out and pushing in slowly, gaining speed little by little as he tries to memorize all the noises Kurt makes, all the little gasps and whimpers and half-spoken words, the way he moans Blaine’s name against his lips, the way he’s clinging to Blaine’s skin as if he never wants to let go. His hair is damp with sweat and falling over his forehead, his cheeks flushed, and he is so beautiful that Blaine practically has to remind himself to keep breathing, to keep moving.

He snakes his hand between their bodies when Kurt’s whimpers turn desperate, stroking Kurt's cock and pressing a messy kiss on his jaw at the same time, and Kurt clenches his eyes shut, moaning into Blaine’s skin. His body tenses up around and under Blaine, and then he’s coming, crying out softly as his fingers dig almost painfully into Blaine’s back.

Blaine’s hips slow down, his own breathing erratic. After a while Kurt’s eyes flutter open, sated and a little unfocused but still staring into Blaine’s as he pushes his body against him, even though it must feel uncomfortable, too much and too soon.

“I love you,” Kurt breathes out with a smile and sucks Blaine’s lower lip gently into his mouth.

Blaine stutters to a stop, staying inside Kurt and gasping against his lips, his whole world reduced to the way pleasure coils through him, the way his body bends over Kurt’s and the way Kurt feels against him, sweaty and warm and here.

It takes him a while, but eventually his breathing calms down and he manages to whisper, “I love you too,” and kiss Kurt’s smiling lips.

 

\---

 

Later, when they’ve cleaned up and pulled the comforter over their naked bodies, Blaine rests his head on Kurt’s chest, his eyes slipping more and more closed with every blink. Their legs are tangled together under the covers, and Kurt is stroking his hand down Blaine’s back, the movement making Blaine want to arch up into the touch and just stay here for as long as they can. If he had a little more energy, he would probably start humming _Silly Love Songs_ again, but for now he’s happy to twine his arm around Kurt’s waist, nuzzle his nose against Kurt’s skin and breathe in the familiar scent of Kurt’s body.

“I sent her flowers,” Kurt says abruptly, his voice quiet.

Blaine startles, frowning in confusion and tilting his head up until he can see Kurt’s face. It takes a moment but eventually his tired mind manages to make sense of the words.

“Rachel?” he asks, moving his thumb over Kurt’s hipbone.

Kurt nods, staring at the ceiling. “I had a bouquet of her favorite flowers sent to her dressing room. Or, well, at least they were her favorite flowers nine years ago.”

Blaine hums, shifting closer to him on the bed. “Did you leave a card with them?”

“I did,” Kurt admits. “I, um, didn’t sign it with my name or anything, but I wrote it in a way that should tell her that it was from me.” He bites his lip, his hand pausing on Blaine’s back. “And I left her my phone number, so it’s her move now,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.

Blaine smiles and strains his neck until he can brush a small kiss over Kurt’s lips. “I’m so proud of you,” he says in a low voice.

Kurt blinks, staring at Blaine. “What? Why?”

Blaine moves back down on the bed, propping his chin on Kurt’s chest. “Because doing something like that after nine years takes a lot of courage,” he explains, “and because the way you talk about her makes it obvious that she means a lot to you. So I’m proud of you for trying to make it work.”

 _It’s not something everyone would do_ , he adds mentally, thinking about all the birthdays he and Cooper have missed during the years, all the conversations they could have had.

Kurt must see some of it in his eyes, because his lips turn into a soft smile and his hand continues its soothing movement over Blaine’s back. Blaine relaxes into the touch, letting his eyes slip closed and feeling the way his own smile stretches his cheeks.

“Thank you,” Kurt says after a moment, and it sounds like he’s thanking Blaine for something else as well, even though Blaine doesn’t think he has done anything especially thank-worthy.

“Anytime,” he mumbles anyway. The last thing he is aware of before he falls asleep is the gentle touch of Kurt’s lips against his forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter might take a while. Also, please let me know if you think I should warn for something specific -- I'm always a bit worried that I'm forgetting something.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was difficult to write, both because of real life messing up my plans and because it's sort of a... transition chapter. After this the story starts dealing with the last two major story archs, so my apologies if something feels weird. Also, bear in mind that this fic isn't supposed to tell every single detail about Kurt and Blaine's life. That's what prompt fills and missing scenes are for. ;)

They make it through to their own five-month anniversary, almost to Kurt’s one-year anniversary with the FBI, until it happens.

Things have been going well, surprisingly well. They have solved numerous cases, and even if Tina says that the persistent rumors are still lingering around the White Collar Division, Blaine’s team seems to have accepted Kurt as one of their own. Even Blaine’s superiors have complimented his team for its solidarity and efficiency. The probies or agents who didn’t like working with an ex-con-man have quietly changed divisions or teams, but most of their colleagues have stayed and altered their attitudes. Sure, sometimes one of the younger agents may go a bit far in their teasing remarks about Kurt’s areas of expertise, but Kurt can put them swiftly back in their place.

It’s still rough leading a double life -– having to act professional around the office and then going home together at the end of the day; waking up with tangled limbs and sleepy morning breath kisses and then covering it all up with crisp shirt collars and friendly pats on the back. Sometimes late at night or early in the morning Blaine wakes up to the feeling of cold plastic pressed against his skin where Kurt’s left ankle is nudging his own, the monitoring anklet a stark reminder of the reality, of how bad things could be if a wrong person found out about them. Whenever it happens Blaine has to lie awake for a moment, staring at the shadows on the ceiling, listening to Kurt’s soft breathing and Perry’s snoring, and remind himself that things are good.

That right now, things are good.

Even the relationship between Kurt and Rachel seems better these days. Rachel called only a few days after the show, just like Blaine had a hunch she would, and Kurt went to have lunch with her the next day, his hands shaking with nerves when Blaine wished him good luck as he was leaving. But then Kurt came back with overwhelmed tears in his eyes and told Blaine how both he and Rachel immediately apologized to each other and how, after a few awkward moments and uncomfortable silences, it had been just like old times.

“She said that she had missed me so much,” Kurt gasped out, his watery smile making Blaine’s heart thud with joy, “and that she was happy for me, for getting out of prison and for... seeming so satisfied with my current life.”

Blaine has met Rachel himself, and it’s easy to see how she and Kurt became friends in the first place. The few times Blaine has been invited to join them for lunch he has mostly just sat back and watched them talk, a small smile playing on his lips as they argue about Broadway or fashion or anything else. He has noticed that there are some things they don’t talk about, just as Kurt doesn’t talk about certain things with Blaine, and everything that has happened in nine years can’t obviously be settled in only a few meetings, but it’s still... nice. Rachel is enthusiastic and passionate; she asks Kurt about his undercover assignments with all the seriousness of an actress and teases him about Blaine, and it’s nice to see Kurt getting back something from his past, something that makes him happy.

For Kurt and Blaine’s five-month anniversary they all went out for dinner to the restaurant where Santana works -– Kurt, Blaine, Sam, Tina, Rachel and Santana, all of them drinking wine and laughing even if most of them met for the first time that night. They are all careful to keep Kurt and Blaine’s relationship a secret, so during the dinner they skirted the topic, but it was still a relief to know that they were among friends, among people who know about them and accept them and who won’t let them down.

Besides, Kurt and Blaine had their own private celebration later that night, so really, it wasn’t that bad.

It’s almost as if the things that have always been missing from Blaine’s life are finally clicking into place. He has always had his job, has had the comfort of his own apartment, the occasional phone calls from his parents and Perry’s silent company -– but now he has close friends for the first time in his life since childhood, he has his own team and the most impressive conviction rate in the New York office... and he has Kurt.

He has Kurt in the mornings, with sleepy eyes and mussed hair; he has Kurt during the day, in impeccable suits and giving clever comments about the cases they’re working on; and he has Kurt in the evenings, when they curl up on the sofa and watch TV together, or make dinner in Blaine’s kitchen, laughing at the way Perry tries to dodge their movements and is obviously wishing for something delicious to fall on the floor. (Blaine always ends up giving her treats, which Kurt doesn’t approve of.)

He has Kurt during the night, or at least during most nights; sleeping next to him and hogging the blanket, his face unguarded and his arms wrapped around Blaine’s body as he snuffles into the pillow and shifts in his sleep.

So yes, things are good. Kurt still has a little over three years left of his deal, and Blaine thinks that maybe, maybe they can do this -– maybe they can keep living the double life for three more years, keep their relationship a secret from the FBI and get through all those long days at work, and then Kurt is a free man and they can finally have it all. If no one slips up, they can definitely do this.

Except Blaine himself is the one who slips up.

They are working on a big case that has Peterson making trips to Blaine’s office more often than usual just to ask him if they’ve made any progress. A known antiques smuggler called Joseph Caine is in town, and all the higher-ups are hoping that Blaine’s team will be the one to catch him after years and years of narrow escapes and failed arrest plans. Caine is a big player, someone who has smuggled antiques out of practically every major country and has arrest warrants waiting for him in at least four of them, and it has been made very clear that the New York office should do their damn best to catch him with a lot of incriminating evidence while he’s in town.

At first the case seems almost too easy –- they learn that Caine is looking for a new front-man for himself, someone who can handle his public business while he takes care of things behind the curtains. They send Kurt undercover as a possible candidate, and Blaine gives him a longer pep-talk than usually, reminding him that Caine is known for his temper and high-risk decisions.

Kurt only shrugs and says, “In case you haven’t noticed, Blaine, everything I do has its risks,” and Blaine knows he isn’t just talking about the case.

Kurt walks into the meeting with a smirk on his face, immediately charms Caine with his wittiness and with the way he handles unexpected situations. He gets hired on the spot, and the FBI gets its evidence.

And then the problems start.

First they find out from Kurt’s assignments that antiques aren’t the only thing Caine has been smuggling in and out of the country. He has a few side businesses that can smuggle almost anything to almost anywhere with the right price, from drugs and money to stolen artworks and forged bonds, which of course means that he has stepped on someone else’s turf. According to the Organized Crime Unit, New York’s own resident smugglers aren’t exactly happy about it.

Caine starts giving Kurt more and more public assignments, basically making him do all his talking and communicating with potential clients and partners, and the change is so sudden and unexpected that there must be a reason for it. Blaine’s team goes through all the evidence they have over and over again, and Kurt comes home from his assignments looking more and more tired, the lines around his eyes deepening. He often needs his space on those days, politely asking to be left alone for a moment, until an hour or two later he walks up to Blaine, wraps his arms around him and just inhales as deeply as he can, as if he has been exhaling the whole day -– sweet-talking and playing a role he doesn’t enjoy –- and now he finally gets to bring himself back.

“Can we pull him out? Or at least move in already, just to play it safe?” Blaine asks Peterson tiredly one afternoon when his boss is leaning against his doorway once again.

“I’m sorry, but we need to get all we can on Caine,” Peterson says, and he sounds genuinely sorry. “He’s clearly planning something huge, parading his new front-man around the city like that.”

Blaine’s head snaps up, his mind finally –-  _finally_  -– making the last connection when he remembers Kurt complaining about Caine practically asking for more trouble with his antics.

“He’s not parading him around,” he breathes out, already standing up from his chair, “he’s making it seem like Kurt is behind everything so he can skip town with his savings and use Kurt as a scapegoat.”

Peterson opens his mouth to say something, but Blaine is already running past him, yelling orders to Tina and Sam and dialing Organized Crime at the same time so he can ask them if the local criminals have been planning anything bigger recently.

And that’s how they end up here, half of Blaine’s team standing outside a battered warehouse with their guns drawn as they wait for SWAT to get through the surprisingly sturdy door. The other half of his team is on their way to catch Caine before he leaves the country, Sam as their leader.

Blaine was the one who requested for a SWAT team to be present, but as the door stays closed he’s starting to regret it. They know there are several armed and dangerous mobsters inside the warehouse, all of them holding a grudge against Caine and therefore against Kurt as well, and if Kurt was here, he would’ve probably picked the door’s lock already.

But Kurt is not here. He’s inside the warehouse with all those mobsters.

Blaine’s palms are sweating on the handle of his gun, his heart hammering against his chest as if it’s going to burst out any time, and he feels like yelling at the SWAT team to work faster. God knows what’s happening inside the warehouse right now, whether Kurt is alive or hurt or... No, he’s not going to go there, he _won’t_ , he has to focus, even if the person he really wants to yell at is himself, because how could he not figure this out earlier? How could he not realize it from the start, and maybe then they wouldn’t be here and Kurt wouldn’t be there, surrounded by angry mobsters who think he’s behind everything Caine has done, and these mobsters aren’t like Kurt, they don’t have any issues with guns or violence, and god, if Blaine had just-–

If anything ever happened to Kurt, Blaine doesn’t think he could live with it.

The door finally opens, and the SWAT team swarms in, Blaine’s team on its heels. Blaine can hear shouting and orders, some of them probably coming out of his mouth as well, but he doesn’t really register them –- because as soon as they round a corner, he sees Kurt.

Kurt is pressed against the farthest wall, his clothes rumpled and in disarray, his hands raised in a placating gesture. There’s a burly man standing in front of him with his hand pushed against Kurt’s lower neck and his gun pointing at Kurt’s head.

The only thing Blaine can focus on is the gun so close to Kurt’s forehead, to the same place Blaine kissed this morning when they woke up in the same bed. The sight of it makes his whole body turn cold, and he ignores everything else, trusting that the others will take care of it as he rushes over and points his own gun at the man threatening Kurt.

“Let him go,” he snarls, emphasizing every word in a voice that doesn’t sound like his own, “and drop your gun.”

Kurt looks from the man to Blaine, his eyes scared but at least a little bit relieved when they meet Blaine’s. When he turns his head Blaine can see that he has some blood in the corner of his mouth, and Blaine’s stomach lurches.

The man looks at Blaine, clearly debating his options.

“I’d do what he says,” Tina’s voice suddenly says next to Blaine, her gun trained on the man’s head.

It takes a moment, but then the man lets go of Kurt and steps away, lifting his hands slowly before he bends down to place his gun on the floor. Tina’s gaze flicks to Blaine, and Blaine nods, keeping his eyes on the man as Tina picks up his gun and secures it.

“Cuff him and take him with the others,” Blaine tells her. He holsters his own gun only when he hears the satisfying click of the handcuffs, and then Tina is leading the man away, leaving Kurt and Blaine alone by the scuffed wall. Blaine looks at Kurt, his heart still beating painfully fast and his hands starting to shake. A few seconds late, and perhaps the man had already pulled the trigger, Blaine wouldn’t have been there to stop him, and then-–

Kurt dabs at the blood on his face and gives Blaine a shaky smile. “You were right on time. I managed to distract them for a while, but I don’t think they would’ve appreciated my sweet-talking much longer.”

Blaine lets out a sob as everything that has been keeping him together for the last hours suddenly breaks off. Kurt’s eyebrows furrow in concern, and then Blaine crosses the distance between them, pulling Kurt into his arms and squeezing him against himself until the only thing he can feel is Kurt, bruised and dishevelled and quivering a little, but still breathing and solid and alive. The need to touch Kurt, to feel him against him, to know what he’s _here_ , is stronger than it has ever been, and Blaine buries his face against Kurt’s shoulder, clenching his eyes shut and breathing in, feeling how his own body starts to tremble.

“ _Kurt_ ,” he gasps, almost hyperventilating, his hands scrabbling against Kurt’s back.

Kurt takes a shuddering breath of his own, his fingers grabbing Blaine’s back just as tightly. “Hey, I’m okay, Blaine. I’m okay,” he whispers.

“I was so scared that--” Blaine starts, trying to calm his breathing, but Kurt interrupts him.

“I know, I know, but I’m _okay_ , Blaine, I promise that I’m okay,” he repeats into Blaine’s ear. “I’ve been through worse during my own cons, okay? They just pushed me around and then he punched me, but I think even Rachel could throw a better punch than him.”

Blaine gives out a watery, relieved laugh, his shoulders shaking with both his sobs and laughter. He burrows his nose deeper into the fabric of Kurt’s jacket stretched over his shoulder, probably ruining it beyond repair, but he can feel the way Kurt’s mouth turns into a smile against his neck anyway.

“Maybe I should just stop sending you on undercover missions,” he murmurs after a moment, his breathing finally somewhat calmed down but still hitching every time he thinks of what could have happened.

Kurt leans back but keeps his arms around Blaine, the weight of them anchoring him and keeping him steady. “You don’t mean that,” Kurt says softly. “Your bosses would never approve of it.”

“I do mean it, if it means we don’t have to go through something like this ever again,” Blaine says with vehemence. “Screw what my bosses think.”

Kurt laughs this time, quiet and choked-off, and Blaine can’t help it –- he was so scared, so terrified that he was going to lose Kurt, but thankfully he didn’t -– so he leans in and kisses Kurt, slow and tender, as if he’s thanking him for being alright and at the same time reassuring himself that Kurt really is alright. He completely forgets where they are and what’s happening around them, and just loses himself in the kiss for a moment, waiting for his heartbeat to slow back to normal.

And then someone coughs next to them.

Kurt freezes against Blaine, and the real world rushes back, the quiet muttering around them and behind it the deafening silence of the warehouse. Someone from the SWAT team is barking orders outside the house, the words sounding muffled through the walls, and Blaine’s eyes snap open. He breaks the kiss and steps quickly away from Kurt even though he doesn’t want to, even though it hurts, but he sees Kurt do the same until there are several feet between them.

When Blaine looks up, he sees half of his team staring back at him, their expressions shocked. The only person who doesn’t look surprised is Tina, but the sadness in her eyes hurts even more, making Blaine realize what he did.

He just sent Kurt straight back to prison with one last kiss.

 

\---

 

They caught Caine and a bunch of dangerous mobsters, and normally Blaine would be congratulating his team for a job well done right now -– but not this time. He was immediately escorted into Peterson’s office when he stepped inside the Bureau, and it almost feels like no one at the FBI wants to have anything to do with him anymore, as if they’re already shutting him out and preparing for the moment when he’s gone. Even the usually comforting dark walls of Peterson’s office seem ominous now, as if they’re closing in on him and suffocating him.

Peterson himself is staring at Blaine across his desk, his eyes unreadable and calculating. Blaine has worked for the man for years, has looked up to him and earned his respect, but in this moment he can’t read his face, can’t tell if he’s surprised or disappointed or angry or all of the above.

He wishes he could care more about it, but he’s honestly more worried about Kurt than he is about himself. He knows that Kurt is waiting in the conference room with Sam and Tina, even though he doesn’t know what they’re waiting for. Perhaps for the moment when Blaine gets officially fired, or for the agents from the Office of Professional Responsibility who are inevitably on their way to arrive.

Or maybe they are just waiting for Kurt’s ride to prison.

Blaine’s body feels cold, strung out, and his arms are itching to cross themselves over his chest, an old defensive habit he used to have as a child. He hopes Peterson would just say something –- they have been sitting here for several minutes already, and the only thing his boss has said so far was “take a seat” when Blaine stepped in, nothing else, and the continued silence is starting to grate on his already frayed nerves.

“I really screwed up, then,” he finally says himself, just to stop the silence, his voice breaking in the middle of the sentence.

Peterson purses his lips, leans back in his chair and doesn’t say anything for a moment or two, as if he’s waiting for Blaine to break down completely. Blaine can’t understand how the man who has supported him through everything for years with no questions asked can suddenly seem so cold.

“So,” Peterson eventually says, drawing the word out. “You and Hummel. How long has this been going on?”

Blaine swallows. He could lie, but what’s the point -– several agents already saw him kiss Kurt, and if he fucked everything up, the least he can do is own up to it.

“Five months, sir,” he replies quietly, looking away.

Peterson’s eyebrows move upwards, but only a little. “Five months,” he repeats. “That’s a long time, Anderson.”

Blaine nods. “It is.”

“And you’ve kept it a secret all this time? From everyone?”

Blaine nods again. He’s not going to take Sam and Tina down with him, not if he can prevent it.

“Huh.” Peterson leans his arms against the desk and blinks his eyes a few times, something in his gaze shifting. “That’s... That’s quite impressive. I take it it’s rather serious then?”

Blaine startles, meeting his boss’s eyes. It’s not the question he was expecting, but he nods anyway, almost relieved to finally tell someone just how serious it is.

“It is, sir. I wouldn’t... We wouldn’t have risked everything if it wasn’t serious.” He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. “But I’m willing to face all the consequences alone if it means that he won’t be sent back to prison.”

Peterson looks at something over Blaine’s shoulder, almost as if he’s ignoring his words. “Both you and Hummel have seemed a lot calmer and more relaxed during these last few months, but I just figured it was the newness of the situation and the settling anxiety finally wearing off,” he muses quietly. “I guess I was wrong.”

Blaine wants to shift in his seat, confused by the sudden change in the atmosphere, but he stays still. “Sir?”

Peterson seems so snap out of his daze. He gives Blaine a small, barely noticeable smile and looks down at his desk. “Have I ever told you how my wife died, Anderson?”

Blaine blinks. He knows about it, everyone at the Bureau does –- how five years ago Peterson’s wife unexpectedly died, and Peterson himself was away from work for weeks, the whole office emptier without him. For a while it seemed like Peterson wouldn’t even be coming back, like he would retire quietly and never be seen again, but then one day he was there, marching through the office with his cheeks gaunt and his steps a little shakier than usual, and since then no one, not even Peterson himself, has approached the subject of his wife’s death. Blaine knows the picture on Peterson’s desk is of her, but he has never actually seen it and doesn’t even know her name. Peterson might be his boss, but they don’t talk about their personal matters –- the only time they did was when Blaine’s superiors found out about his sexuality and Peterson personally came to assure him that no matter what, he wouldn’t let it change anything.

“Um... You haven’t?” Blaine ventures.

Peterson’s smile turns sad, his eyes trained on the photograph on his desk. “It was a hit-and-run. One moment she was crossing the street and talking to a friend of hers on the phone, and then she just...” He trails off.

Blaine does shift in his seat now, not knowing how to react to something like this. He does know the appropriate reactions, has had them instilled into him from an early age, but this situation seems to deserve something more than just appropriate. But he doesn’t know how to get it across.

“That’s... I’m sorry, sir,” he says quietly.

Peterson looks up, and the expression on his face is surprisingly gentle. It makes Blaine feel even more confused.

“She was my heart,” Peterson says simply. “I was an awful person before I met her –- someone who would’ve probably fired you because of...” He waves his hand in the air, and Blaine swallows again. “But then I met her, this liberal do-gooder who loved the whole world in general and for some crazy reason me in particular, and I wanted to be a better man for her. Even now every time I make a decision I still wonder, years after her death, if Eliza would have approved of it.”

“She sounds like a wonderful person,” Blaine offers.

“She was,” Peterson answers, and his eyes finally seem to focus on Blaine, coming back from his memories. “You know, Blaine, I’ve always thought that you have a bit too much heart for this job. And when I met Hummel for the first time, I thought the same about him.” He scratches the side of his neck with a wry smile. “I figured that pairing you two up would either result in something great or in a disaster.”

Blaine looks away, his heart clenching inside his chest. “And I guess it resulted in a disaster,” he mutters.

Peterson leans back in his chair again, crossing his arms over his chest. “A few weeks ago we had a meeting where I convinced the other higher-ups that there’s nothing going on between you and Hummel. They all seemed to think that just because you’re gay and Hummel is probably gay, there must be something going on –- as if two gay men can’t work together without sharing a bed.”

Blaine head snaps up. “W-what?”

Peterson shrugs. “They’ve been suspicious from the start, but I got them to listen to reason –- and to your team’s impressive results, I might add -– and now they firmly believe that you and Hummel are just colleagues and friends.”

Blaine stares at him. “But that’s going to change now,” he points out, more confused by this conversation than he was before. “They saw us. Half of my team saw us, and they must have all...”

“The official statements I got from your team only say that you and Ms. Cohen-Chang made the man threatening Mr. Hummel surrender his weapon, and then you and Mr. Hummel shared a brief, professional hug after a job well done,” Peterson says. “That’s what all of them said,” he adds pointedly.

Blaine keeps staring at him. “All of them?” he manages to croak out, sitting still.

“All of them,” Peterson repeats. “You have a good team, Anderson.”

Blaine breathes out an incredulous laugh, sudden tears gathering in his eyes. He curses himself for being so emotional, but he can’t... It seems impossible, that his team would have his back like that -– he expected it from Sam and Tina, obviously, but lying to the Bureau just to save your boss and the resident CI is a bit too much to ask even from them, and especially from the people who have been gossiping about him and Kurt from day one.

“And you’re a good leader,” Peterson continues, ignoring Blaine’s tearful expression, “so I expect you to be even more cautious from now on when you’re handling delicate cases like this one.”

It takes Blaine a moment to understand the intended meaning behind Peterson’s words, but then he clears his throat and nods vigorously. “I-– I will, of course I will. Both Mr. Hummel and I will be more careful in the future, I swear.”

“Good.” Peterson nods, seemingly professional. “Because if something like this happens again, I can’t be the one to protect either of you from the consequences. And I’d hate to lose the duo that has the Bureau’s best conviction rate.” He looks at Blaine with his eyebrows raised.

Blaine shakes his head, trying to reel his feelings back in. “No, of course not. It won’t happen again, sir. I promise. We’ll-– we’ll both make sure of it.”

Peterson’s face softens, the professionalism dropping away. “I know it’s difficult to keep your professional and personal life separate, but... It’s only three more years, Blaine, against something possibly much longer. You told me you’re serious, but the real question is exactly how serious are you?”

Blaine hesitates, looking down on his lap where his hands are resting. He remembers how scared he was earlier today, how the thought of Kurt being hurt makes him feel like his whole heart is curling up in pain and withering away -– how knowing that he and Kurt can go home together at the end of the day makes even dull insurance fraud cases and hours spent in the surveillance van seem interesting.

“I obviously can’t know what’s going to happen in the future,” he says in a quiet voice, “but I am very serious. He’s not just... He’s my best friend, too,” he admits. It’s true; Kurt Hummel has been a part of his life in some way for almost a decade now, and he can’t imagine his life without him. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes just to have him in my life. Fearlessly and forever. Or at least for as long as he wants to stay.”

Peterson’s mouth turns into a smile. “Good.” He takes a pile of papers from his desk and seems to school his face into an authoritative expression again. “Now get the hell out of my office, Anderson. There’s a team waiting for you out there, and they probably think I’ve fired you. You should go tell them that they get to keep their boss.”

Blaine scrambles up, his own smile practically breaking his whole face in half. “Yes, of course, sir. I promise I won’t let you down.”

He takes a few steps towards the door and then stops, his smile faltering when it hits him that Peterson gave up his own plausible deniability by asking Blaine how serious he is. It’s something everyone at the Bureau has been trained against, and if Blaine and Kurt now mess up one more time and go down, Peterson is going down with them. Not a lot of superiors would do that for their agents or CIs. It’s a clear sign of trust, of faith, and Blaine feels his throat tighten with the realization.

He turns around to look at his boss one last time. “Sir?” he ventures, softening his voice. “Thank you.”

Peterson looks up from his papers. “I have to make my decisions with my heart in mind,” he replies.

Blaine nods with a small smile, turns his back on him and steps out of the room, closing the door behind him. He walks down the corridor, shaking his head in disbelief and flexing his hands. He feels like laughing, like singing and dancing, like hugging everyone he sees, and a part of him still can’t believe that this is real, that he screwed everything up only to find out that he and Kurt have all the support they can get. It feels unreal and unbelievable –- his team has become a closely-knit group, he knows that, but he didn’t think anyone would actually go this far for him, that somehow his fellow agents and his probies wouldn’t only do what’s right by the law, but what’s right by the people involved as well.

It also feels like there is a sudden heavy weight on his shoulders, but he’s willing to ignore that for now.

He rounds a corner, stepping into the White Collar Division, and immediately halts in his steps. His whole team is waiting for him, huddled together in a small group near the stairs leading up to the upper level of the office. When he enters they all look up and meet his eyes, the whispering immediately quieting down. Even Sam and Tina are there, looking more nervous than Blaine has ever seen them. He notices that the two youngest probies, the ones who have been flirting for months, are holding hands, their knuckles almost white from how tight their grip is, and everyone is staring at him with expectant eyes.

“We can...” Blaine starts and then pauses to swallow down the sudden overwhelmed tears, blinking his eyes a few times until he lifts his gaze again and takes a deep breath. “We can get back to work,” he finally says, smiling.

Sam’s face is the first one to break into a wide grin, and Blaine laughs when he whoops and pumps his fist in the air. All the others start smiling and laughing as well, their shoulders relaxing, the whole group slowly loosening up, and Blaine feels his breath catch in his throat as he watches his team. He doesn’t know how he ever got this lucky.

“But I... I can never thank you enough,” he continues, trying to keep the tears out of his voice. “And I promise -– no, I _swear_ –- that I will do my best to never, ever let you down again.”

Tina steps forward and rests his hand on Blaine’s arm with a smile. “We’re just happy to have you back, boss,” she says.

It’s the first time in a long while that any of them has called him boss, and Blaine lets out a snort at it, the final remains of the tension over the room breaking. Suddenly there are more hands clapping his back, everyone talking and laughing, and Sam even hugs Blaine against his chest for a moment, knocking the breath out of him with the force of it.

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Blaine raises his voice over the noise. “Back to work, everyone. We still have a lot to do, and I want those case reports on my desk by tomorrow morning.”

“You can’t be serious?” one of the probies exclaims in horror.

“I’m not,” Blaine admits, feeling giddy. “Go home, people. You deserve it.”

With a relieved laugh everyone starts slowly collecting their things and wandering off, all of them looking more relaxed than they did when they started working on this case and many of them still pausing to look Blaine in the eye, to pat his back on their way out or to say a few words. Blaine feels like he should be the one to say more, to thank them several more times or ask them why on earth they did all this for him and Kurt, but perhaps the best he can do to pay them back is to let things return to normal as soon as possible.

He looks around the half-empty room after a moment, furrowing his brows when he can’t find what he’s looking for, and then Sam leans closer, squeezing his arm with a grin.

“He’s still in the conference room,” he whispers in a conspiratory voice, gives Blaine’s arm one last pat and walks away. Blaine ducks his head with another laugh, and then quickly jogs up the stairs to the upper level.

He stops in front of the closed conference room door before pushing it open and peeking inside. Kurt is leaning against the table, staring out of the windows with his arms crossed over his chest, his fingers drawing patterns on the sleeve of his shirt. His jacket is lying on the table, messy and unfolded, and Blaine feels his heart thud at the sight.

Who cares about some extra weight on his shoulders when he gets to have this?

He closes the door behind him and Kurt startles, turning to look at Blaine over his shoulder. His eyes widen, his fingers stopping in their movement, and Blaine is relieved to see that the blood on his face has been cleaned away, only a few drops of red remaining on the white collar of his shirt.

“Hey,” Kurt says, pushing himself off the table. “What did they...?”

“You’re not going back to prison,” Blaine says and steps closer.

Kurt exhales in relief, his body relaxing, but then he immediately tenses again. “Wait, what about you? They’re not going to-–”

“I get to keep my job as well,” Blaine interrupts before Kurt has the chance to worry. “The team lied for us, and Peterson basically said that he has our backs but we should be even more careful in the future.”

Kurt opens his mouth and closes it. Several different expressions flit over his face, until he eventually settles on lifting his eyebrows incredulously. “You’re not serious.”

“I am,” Blaine laughs, crossing the room and taking Kurt’s hand. “Peterson even gave up his plausible deniability. They all know about us now, Kurt, but they still protected us and kept our secret.”

“That’s...” Kurt looks even more confused. “That’s crazy, why on earth would they do that?”

Blaine shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean, Peterson told me not to mess up like that for a second time, but I...” He shakes his head, still not completely believing that this is real. “We get to work together, Kurt. I don’t have to let you go,” he says, grinning.

Kurt still looks dubious. “But it makes no sense. Most of them hate me.”

“They don’t hate you, Kurt,” Blaine protests. “They’re good people, good agents, but they just... They’re not perfect, but they’re obviously willing to support us now.”

“And what about in the future? What if they change their minds?” Kurt demands.

Blaine wants to smooth his thumb over the worried crease between Kurt’s eyebrows and make it disappear. “Then we’ll deal with it if and when it happens,” he assures him, squeezing his hand. He knows Kurt doesn’t believe in easy victories. “I still need to talk to everyone properly, maybe ask Tina what on earth has been going on when I haven’t been around to notice it, but we... _Kurt_ ,” he finishes, laughing again and swinging their hands back and forth, because how could he not?

Kurt’s expression softens, his lips slowly turning into a smile, and then he finally slots their fingers together. “So you’re actually serious?” he asks carefully. “I’m not going back to prison, you’re not getting fired and this is really happening?”

Blaine nods, looking down at their hands. “It is. We just... I know we have been careful and now we have help, but we really have to step up and make sure the people who won’t help us don’t find out about us. This deal doesn’t have any more second chances.”

“So no more making out in the rest room?” Kurt says in a coy voice, tilting his head until he can meet Blaine’s eyes.

“No more making out in the rest room,” Blaine repeats, and he can’t keep the disappointment out of his voice. Those rest room moments were the highlight of his day. “But also no more prison or unemployment. It’s a nice bonus, don’t you think?” he jokes.

Kurt snorts. “I think I can live with that. As long as I have you,” he adds in sing-song, winking at Blaine.

“You do,” Blaine says gently. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

Kurt startles and looks up, his eyes shining. Blaine remembers what he said to Peterson, about wanting to keep Kurt in his life forever, and he clears his throat, averting his eyes with a blush. It’s only been five months, five short months, but he knows, he is sure of it, more than he has been about anything else in his life –- but he also knows that now is not the right time.

“Come on,” he says instead, tugging at Kurt’s hand, “let’s get home so I can kiss you and make sure those mobsters didn’t leave any bruises.”

Kurt laughs and follows him out of the conference room. They let go of each other the moment they step out of the room, even though the office is empty by now, and it feels different –- hesitant, careful and almost a little scared, because this is it; this is the last chance they’re going to get. Maybe they’ve been a bit too naive before, or maybe this is just a temporary break they get to enjoy for now, but Blaine promises himself that this time he won’t screw anything up.

They’ve already had their luck with second chances, and he won’t risk it anymore.

 

\---

 

(Kurt is the one who corners Tina in the breakroom the next day and asks her why the team suddenly decided to forgo their previous attitudes.

“Jake told me that they just thought you and Blaine made a convincing argument. That’s all,” Tina says with a shrug as she stirs sugar into her coffee.

Kurt frowns. “But we didn’t even say anything to them.”

“I’m sure that as a former con-man you know that sometimes you don’t have to _say_ anything to make a convincing argument,” Tina points out before she takes a sip of her coffee, seems to deem it suitable and walks away, leaving Kurt to stare after her in confusion.)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another interlude from Kurt's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling too much after the White Collar season premiere last night, so I put all of that energy into editing this chapter and got it done a few days earlier than I thought. Yay!
> 
> A huge thank you to [Tiuku](http://tiuku.tumblr.com), who probably doesn’t even know how much her lovely messages have helped me with this fic. ♥

Something is twisted around Kurt’s ankle, pulling him down and not letting him go no matter how hard he kicks against it. Some rational part of his mind is telling him to just calm down, everything is alright –- he has Blaine and he’s not going back to prison, there are no guns pressed against his head and he doesn’t have to make escape plans or run anymore –- but another part, the old con-man instinct, is yelling at him because he’s trapped, he’s relying too much on other people instead of himself, and he kicks again, trying to free his ankle, feeling his heart beating inside his chest in anxiety.

His foot bumps against the mattress, and Kurt startles awake, blinking his eyes until the shadows around him start to resemble his loft once again. His comforter is twisted around his left ankle, the thick fabric caught on his monitoring anklet, and he wriggles his leg free with a huff until he can kick the covers away. He shivers when the cold air hits his skin, his hand automatically reaching towards the other side of the bed but meeting only more air.

Blaine’s not there.

It takes a moment for Kurt’s sleep-muddled mind to come back to its senses, but then he remembers Blaine telling him about another late-night stake-out earlier today, sounding genuinely sorry and patting Kurt’s back when they left the office, the gesture feeling strangely distant against Kurt’s body.

Kurt pulls his hand back and slowly sits up, glancing at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It’s almost five in the morning. Blaine is probably back from his stake-out already, huddled under the covers of his own bed while Perry sleeps on the floor with her legs spread out next to her. Kurt fumbles for his phone, the screen lighting up when he touches it, and yep, he was right -– he has a text from Blaine, sent a few hours ago.

 

 **From Blaine:**  
_Got home safely. See you in the morning._

 

Kurt sighs and puts his phone away. He’s not getting any more sleep, and he usually wakes up this early anyway, so he might as well get up and make some coffee. He stumbles out of bed, running his hand through his messy hair. The loft feels empty and unfamiliar around him -– he has gotten so used to sleeping at Blaine’s apartment or at least with Blaine that it feels unexpectedly odd to wake up alone at his own place. It’s... disconcerting. He’s slept alone for years, in hotel rooms and temporary hide-outs, so he should be used to it, to this sense of hollowness and silence, but somehow during the six months he has been with Blaine he has managed to grow out of it already.

He makes the coffee slowly because he has time, savoring the smell of the fresh beans he bought only a few days ago and humming a quiet tune under his breath. The beans are imported and quite expensive, but they are worth every cent. The FBI’s CI salary isn’t that good, but he has some savings left, and on some mornings he just wants to be slow and make his own coffee. Sometimes life’s little luxuries are better than priceless paintings or expensive artifacts.

He only wishes he could make two cups instead of one and have someone to share his morning coffee with.

Kurt goes to sit in the living room with his coffee when he’s done, sipping the drink slowly. He still feels a little disoriented after the dream; he doesn’t have nightmares often, but he has basically been waiting for this one. It’s been only a little over a week since the Caine case and its aftermath, and he’s still haunted by how close to ruining everything they were, how he was so sure that he was going to lose Blaine and his freedom at the same time, end up back in prison and never get the chance to see Blaine again –- and then they practically got off the hook with no repercussions or questions asked. Kurt still can’t quite believe it.

They talked about it afterwards, of course they did, and they decided to keep their distance at the office. It was Blaine’s idea, actually, and Kurt agreed to it immediately. Kurt knows that the team has given them their support, their figurative blessing, but if he’s learned anything during his life of crime, it’s that people’s support can be a surprisingly fickle thing. He doesn’t want to rub his and Blaine’s relationship in or give the other agents any reason to suddenly change their minds. On top of that there are still agents who don’t know about them at the Bureau, people who should never find out about them, so they’re keeping their distance even more carefully than they did before. No more making out in the restroom, no more holding hands under the conference room table or making frequent trips to the records floor. Just friendly interaction between two colleagues, even if Kurt still sometimes catches Blaine looking at him across the room with such fondness in his eyes that it’s not exactly just friendly.

Except...

Kurt leans his head against the backrest of the couch, looking up at the ceiling and listening to the distant hum of the city outside his windows. Except now it’s starting to feel like the polite distance is seeping into their personal lives as well. This is the fourth time this week he and Blaine haven’t spent the night together, and though Blaine has always had a reason for it, Kurt is starting to think something’s wrong. Perhaps Blaine thinks that the roles they have to play around the office will be easier if they don’t spend every minute of their spare time with each other, but it’s still weird. Kurt thought that the whole point of being extra careful at work was that they could still be themselves when it’s just them and no one else.

The skin under his anklet starts itching again, and he leans down to scratch it. As much good as the deal has brought into his life, he still sometimes hates the way the anklet is keeping him from doing the things he really wants to do -– holding Blaine’s hand when they walk down the street, kissing him goodnight and good morning every day, maybe taking Blaine out on a date somewhere outside his radius. Or perhaps even going back to visit Ohio on his own, or with Rachel and Santana. Or with Blaine. He knows Blaine is from Ohio as well, so they could make a road-trip out of it, if it wasn’t for the specific terms of the work-release deal that make trips out of state practically impossible.

Then again, before the anklet and the deal Kurt didn’t even want any of those things. He didn’t want anything like that, didn’t care about anything outside the next con and definitely not about being happy. Now he wants it more than anything.

He still has his freedom, but recently he has started to notice its boundaries as well.

 

\---

 

“I think you’re going to like our next case,” Blaine says airily when he stops in front of Kurt’s desk later that morning.

Kurt looks up from his papers. Blaine is smiling at him, but there’s something off, a barely noticeable tightness around his eyes or a strain over his mouth, something resigned lingering in the lines on his face. No one else has probably even noticed it, but Kurt knows these things about Blaine, thanks to years of studying him, and he wants to corner him and ask him what’s wrong, even though he also knows that cornering Blaine won’t get him anymore. Cornering Blaine when he’s like this would probably only make him close up even more, but Kurt still wants to do it. Desperately.

But they are at work now, surrounded by people who know about them and support them but who could still change their minds, and like Blaine himself said after the Caine case, there are no second chances anymore. So Kurt smiles back, hoping to convey some wordless reassurance with his facial expression alone.

“Do tell,” he says, leaning his elbows against the desk and resting his chin in his hands.

Blaine’s smile widens, the tightness loosening a little. “One word: Fashion.”

As worried as he is about Blaine, Kurt can’t help the excited shiver that runs up his spine at the word. “Oh god, don’t tell me that someone has stolen an original Alexander McQueen and it’s our job to find it?” he gasps out.

“Nothing like that, I’m afraid,” Blaine laughs. Kurt can feel his own smile widening at the sound of it. “But someone did break into the Vogue offices and steal a very expensive diamond necklace the magazine was going to showcase in its upcoming issue.”

“Oh my god.” Kurt sucks in a breath. “Someone stole the canary diamond?” he exclaims, his voice getting higher and the agents sitting closest to them startling in surprise.

Blaine hushes him. “Yes, someone stole the canary diamond,” he repeats, giving one of the files he has been holding to Kurt. “And we need to find out who it was. So go through that file before your lunch break and then meet me in the conference room afterwards. The techs are still working on the crime scene, and Vogue is sending someone here to give us more details.”

“Is it bad that I’m kind of excited?” Kurt asks as he takes the file and starts flipping through it. “I mean, it’s Vogue! I’ve basically been waiting for a case like this. Ooh, there are crime scene photos,” he adds, holding the file a little more carefully and drinking in the attached photographs.

“It’s not bad,” Blaine says, the tone of his voice sounding softer than it has all morning, and Kurt calls that a success. He starts to turn away from Kurt’s desk, shifting the rest of the files he still has on his hands, and Kurt tears his gaze away from the description of the diamond before he can get too far.

“Blaine?” he calls out. Blaine stops and turns around, his eyebrows raised in question. Kurt hesitates. “I’m... I’m having lunch with Rachel today, and she said that you’re welcome to join us as well. If you’d like to?”

It only takes a second, and then the resigned strain is back over Blaine’s face, his jaw tightening almost unconsciously and his eyes dimming. “That’s... very kind of her,” Blaine says slowly, the corners of his mouth turning down, and Kurt notices the way he glances around the office before continuing, “but I’m going to have to eat here today. I have to brief my bosses about this case, so...”

“Oh.” Kurt blinks, disappointed but trying to school his face back to neutral. “That’s alright. I get it.”

“Tell her I said hi?” Blaine ventures. He does look genuinely sorry, but Kurt knows he has no reason to brief the higher-ups yet, not when they haven’t even come up with a plan for this case. He swallows against the bitter taste in his mouth and just nods at Blaine.

“Sure. I’ll tell her,” he replies, and if it comes out a little colder than usual, well, what can he do.

Blaine’s face falls for a quick moment, but then he schools his expression as well and gives Kurt a polite smile, something sad and disappointed and regretful shimmering behind it. Kurt watches as he hugs the files closer to his chest and then walks away, only nodding a brisk greeting to Sam when they pass each other on the stairs. Blaine closes the door of his office behind him, something he doesn’t usually do, and the last thing Kurt sees through the glass walls before he turns his gaze away is the way Blaine’s shoulders seem to shake when he takes a deep breath and starts sorting his files over his desk.

Kurt trusts Blaine, always has to some degree and always will –- he trusts him when he whispers _I love you_ against Kurt’s collarbone when they make love, trusts him with some of the darkest secrets from his past, trusts and knows him to do his best, no matter what -– but ever since their scare during the Caine case something has been wrong, and the way Blaine keeps acting is a sure indication of it.

Kurt frowns down worriedly at the case file in his hands. Perhaps even things at the office aren’t as fine as he thought they were.

He is still turning everything over and over in his head an hour later when he’s sitting in a coffee shop near the FBI building, pushing his chicken salad around his plate and absent-mindedly listening to Rachel’s story about her horrible dance instructor. He knows he agreed to keeping their distance, but Blaine is keeping it almost too well, and he can’t help but wonder if Blaine has suddenly realized that his job is more important to him than Kurt, that what they are or were could never-–

“Kurt? Are you still listening?”

Kurt startles at the tentative touch to his wrist, blinking his eyes until he’s back in the here and now. Rachel’s fingers are resting over his hand, and she’s staring at him over the small table, her eyes worried and her fork hovering nervously over her own salad.

“I’m hogging the conversation again, aren’t I?” she asks with a small smile, tilting her head and pulling her hand away.

“You kind of were, Rachel, but it’s okay.” Kurt rolls his eyes and puts down his utensils. “I just have a lot on my mind, so I wasn’t really paying attention. Sorry.”

“Oh?” Rachel leans closer, an excited gleam in her eyes. “Is it a difficult case for the FBI? You have to go undercover as a rich playboy who likes fast cars and easy lovers so you can catch a black widow who has already murdered four of her -- or his! –- husbands? And now you’re worried that perhaps this black widow is out to get you as well?”

“No!” Kurt stresses, lifting his eyebrows. “How did you even come up with that?”

Rachel leans back away, her expression turning sheepish. “I might have read a few trashy crime novels when I was trying to figure out how to get in contact with you. You know, for future reference. But,” she interrupts before Kurt can say anything, “in my defense, most of them were Santana’s.”

Kurt laughs, forgetting all of his problems for a moment. God, he has missed this. He has missed Rachel and her particular brand of insanity. “I don’t think those novels paint a very accurate picture of the life of a criminal, Rachel,” he comments when his laughter finally dies down. “It’s not that glorious.”

“So I figured.” Rachel frowns, most likely mentally removing the books from her list of possible character references. Kurt hides his smile behind his hand. After a moment she shakes her head and then fixes Kurt with a gaze. “Honestly though –- is everything alright? You’re not usually this distracted.”

Kurt can feel his own smile falter before he manages to stop it. He forces his mouth to turn back into a smile and shrugs his shoulders. “It’s nothing, Rachel. Just a new case that seems interesting.”

“Actually...” Rachel bites her lip. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something about that and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way because I don’t mean anything... weird by it.” She waves her hand through the air in a so-and-so gesture.

“What?” Kurt asks, finally picking up his fork again and spearing a piece of lettuce.

Rachel hesitates, a sure sign that she’s going to ask something they usually avoid talking about. “I’ve been getting the feeling that you’re not going to continue being a con-man anymore, so I was just wondering if you’ve given any thought to your future? To what you’re going to do in the future, I mean?”

Kurt pauses, swallowing his food before he answers. “I still have three years left on my deal. So that’s what I’m going to do,” he evades.

“No, but-–” Rachel starts, stops and then starts again. “Three years isn’t that long a time, Kurt. Do you remember how in high school you had a very detailed plan about what your life was going to be like for the next twenty years? You must have some kind of an idea about what you’re going to do when your deal is over.”

“Plans change, Rachel.” Kurt keeps his voice even. “We both know that.”

Rachel nods quickly. “We do, and like I said, I’m not trying to be pushy or weird, but I just... I don’t want you to end up with nothing when that tracking anklet is gone.” She nudges his foot under the table. “We’re not that young anymore, Kurt, and we need to plan things ahead, even if those plans won’t work out in the end. You’ve always been one of the most talented people I know, and...”

She trails off, and Kurt looks up from his salad, lifting his eyebrow. “Yes?”

“And I’d love to see you use that talent again, now that your life is more socially acceptable,” Rachel finishes, looking Kurt straight in the eye, the expression on her face almost a little desperate.

Kurt sighs. “I’m not the same person I was in high school, Rachel. I don’t think I ever will be that person again, at least not completely.” He glances at her, feeling some of the old anger resurfacing. “So if you’re hoping that I will just magically apply to NYADA again and become your roommate-–”

“That’s not what I meant,” Rachel rushes to say, shaking hear head with her eyes wide open. “I don’t expect that to happen, I promise. We’re both different people than we were in high school.” Her expressions turns suggestive. “Besides, I know you’d much rather become Blaine’s roommate than mine, so...” She waggles her eyebrows, something that always manages to look kind of ridiculous when she does it.

Kurt averts his gaze. A week ago her comment would’ve made him laugh and blush, but now it hits a bit too close to home. He has probably known it for a while already, has had an inkling of the magnitude of his own feelings ever since the first time he noticed Blaine looking at him the way he usually does, soft and amazed and like Kurt’s more than just worth it, like he’s the most wonderful thing Blaine has ever seen. Or perhaps he even realized it all those years ago when Blaine caught him for the first time and shook his hand with a lot more kindness than he expected from a federal agent.

Whatever it is, Rachel’s words make it all seem so much more concrete. He does want that, just like he wants a lot of things these days; he wants to move in with Blaine and call Perry their dog, wants to be something more than just an ex-con-man. He wants to have Blaine in his life as long as possible.

He would’ve thought it was something Blaine wanted as well, but after the last week, he’s not so sure anymore.

Rachel is still looking at him, so he shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know what my life is going to be like in three years, Rachel,” he points out, “but I promise I’ll give it some thought, if it makes you feel any better.”

“That’s all I want,” Rachel trills, smiling again and flicking her hair behind her ears. “Oh, that reminds me! I meant to ask -– how’s Blaine? You did tell him that he could join us for lunch?”

Kurt looks down at his salad again, uncertainty about him and Blaine, about his future, about _everything_ , swirling around his body. “He was busy,” he says simply, giving a small shrug. “New case, like I said.”

Rachel from nine years ago would’ve pestered him for details, annoyed him with questions until he gave up; but their relationship still isn’t what it used to be, so she just gives him a small, understanding smile and asks him if he read the reviews they talked about on the phone the other night.

 

\---

 

When Kurt steps out of the elevator on the 21st floor after his lunch break, he almost bumps into Tina, who has obviously been waiting for the elevator for a long while, judging by her expression. Kurt quickly changes his movement and steps aside, letting her pass and flashing a quick smile in apology.

“Blaine was looking for you,” Tina mentions in response, keeping her hand between the elevator doors so they won’t close too soon. “He’s in his office with that woman from Vogue.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks,” Kurt says, giving her another smile before the doors close between them. He quickly checks his reflection in the steely surface of the elevator doors and straightens his bowtie. He knows it’s a little ridiculous, but everyone in the white collar world judges people by their appearance and their clothes -– god knows he does it himself all the time. But this is Vogue, a special case that trumps all the others. It’s practically his bible. He has to look his best for them.

When he’s satisfied with his appearance he crosses the bullpen, walks up the stairs to the upper level and knocks on the halfway-closed door of Blaine’s office, trying to quell his excitement. He can hear voices coming from inside, and they pause at his knock until Blaine calls out, “Come in!”

Kurt pushes the door all the way open and steps inside. There’s an older woman sitting opposite Blaine on the other side of his desk, her expression curious but friendly, and both she and Blaine turn to look at him when he closes the door behind him.

“Hi,” he greets awkwardly. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“No, not at all,” Blaine says with the smile Kurt likes to call his working smile –- polite but efficient. He doesn’t usually see it aimed at himself, though. Blaine gestures at the woman with his hand. “Kurt, this is Isabelle Wright. She’s in charge of the diamond article,” he introduces. “Ms. Wright, this is Kurt Hummel, our informant who helps us with cases like this one.”

“Oh, so you’re the person behind that gorgeous sketch?” Isabelle asks, her smile widening as she takes Kurt’s offered hand and gives it a firm shake. The bracelets she’s wearing jingle with the movement.

Kurt frowns, looking confusedly between Blaine and Isabelle. “What sketch?”

Blaine looks away, a small blush spreading over his cheeks, and points at the left-hand wall of his office. The expression on Blaine’s face is so much more present than it was before lunch that it takes Kurt a moment to move his eyes away from him, but eventually he manages to follow the gesture. There’s a framed picture on the wall right under Blaine’s bookshelf, next to two official certificates. Kurt can’t remember seeing the picture there before, so it must be new, and when he looks at it more closely he recognizes it as one of his own sketches.

It’s just a rough sketch of a suit with minimal shadowing, something he doodled during one of their longer meetings in the conference room and apparently forgot to throw away –- but he had no idea that Blaine had held onto it, let alone framed it and put it on his wall.

He turns back to look at Blaine, something warm and surprised spreading through his body. “You kept it?” he asks, hoping he doesn’t sound as breathless as he feels.

Blaine shrugs, not meeting his eyes. “I liked it,” he replies. “If you don’t want me to have it, I can take it down and-–”

“No, no, you can have it,” Kurt rushes to promise. “I have dozens of sketches like that at home, so it’s not that big a deal.”

Blaine finally looks at him, something soft in his eyes, and _oh_ , there he is -– there’s the Blaine Kurt knows, the one who somehow manages to convey more feelings with a simple look in his eyes than with elaborate words, the one who looks at Kurt like he wants to reach out and never let go. He has missed this Blaine during these last few days, has missed waking up next to him and feeling his warm body pressed against his own.

“So there are more of these sketches?” Isabelle says, interrupting the moment, and Kurt’s heart aches when Blaine immediately looks away and clears his throat, that sense of resignation settling over his features again. Isabelle doesn’t seem to notice it and just keeps looking at Kurt, her eyes shining with interest. “I’d love to see them one day. You’re obviously very talented.”

Kurt ducks his head, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Um, wow. Thank you.” He takes a seat at the opposite end of the desk, suddenly not knowing what to do with his hands. Someone from Vogue just complimented his sketches, someone who probably wouldn’t say it if they didn’t mean it, and it’s a lot, definitely. “Did I miss anything important about the case?” he changes the subject, glancing at the case files spread over Blaine’s desk.

“No, not much,” Blaine says, back to professional once again. “We were just discussing how the thief could’ve gotten through the security and inside the building. Ms. Wright was telling me about the protective measures their security team had taken to ensure the diamond’s safety, but that’s about it.”

Kurt bites his lip. He should probably come clean now rather than later. “Well, this is weirdly convenient.”

“What do you mean?” Blaine asks, turning to look at Kurt.

“It’s just that...” Kurt glances at Isabelle. “Blaine -– I mean, Agent Anderson,” he corrects himself, “probably told you already that I’m a criminal informant, and... One of the first cons I ever allegedly ran was actually breaking into the Vogue offices after-hours,” he confesses.

Isabelle’s eyes widen. “What?” she exclaims.

Blaine smiles and shakes his head. “Let me guess: you didn’t even steal anything?”

“I didn’t,” Kurt admits, pursing his lips in thought. “Allegedly. I just wanted to see if I could do it, and to see what the building looks like from the inside.”

(If this was just him and Blaine and if the things between them were the way they were a week ago, he would probably add that in reality he had dreamed of working for Vogue if his Broadway dreams didn’t pay off; that before things changed and his life took a turn for the worse he had been planning his job application and cataloguing all the sketches and outfits he could include in it. Breaking into the Vogue offices just to take a look of it all was his way of saying goodbye to his old dreams before he left New York to run an art gallery sting in Italy, and he both hated and admired himself for doing it. He only spent a few minutes inside the building before he started to feel like he couldn’t breathe, like everything he used to be was suffocating him and he had to get out. But right now things are what they are, and he doesn’t say any of those things.)

“You broke into the Vogue building, what, several years ago?” Isabelle repeats, still looking a bit shocked but not necessarily in a bad way. “How do we know you didn’t steal the diamond?” she asks, staring at Kurt but clearly addressing his words to Blaine.

“He didn’t,” Blaine says immediately. “He’s not a criminal, he’s a consultant, and he wouldn’t steal anything.” He hesitates, suddenly seeming very interested in the files on his desk. “Besides, we track his... his every movement, so we know where he was at the time of the theft.”

Kurt frowns, trying to read Blaine’s facial expression, but Isabelle interrupts him again by clapping her hands on her thighs and smoothing down the fabric of her skirt.

“Well,” she says, her voice determined, “I guess we have the best expert and the best agent working on this case, then. Hopefully that means we can get the diamond back before I get sacked.”

“We’ll do our best,” Blaine promises. “We are on a deadline here, in a way, because with every moment we’re giving the culprit more time to transport the diamond out of the country or get it cut into smaller gems. Finding it will be a lot more difficult if either of those happens before we catch the person or people responsible.”

Kurt leans closer to the desk, straightening his back in confidence. “Then you need me. I know how to get into that building.” He shrugs his other shoulder. “And how to get out.”

Isabelle’s smile widens. “Don’t tell my boss, but this is kind of exciting,” she stage-whispers.

Kurt hides his own smile. He’s starting to like her already. If things had gone differently, she could’ve been his boss or colleague –- he could be the one worried about getting fired right now, not her, and thinking about all the possibilities is making his head spin. He grabs the nearest file and drags it to his side of the desk, just for distraction, trying to ignore the rushing thoughts inside his head.

“Alright,” Blaine says, glancing at Kurt, but Kurt ignores him. If he starts to think about Blaine’s motives right now as well, he won’t be able to concentrate on the case. “Well, we already know from the witness reports and crime scene photos what has happened,” Blaine continues, looking back to Isabelle, “but could you walk us through everything one more time, Ms. Wright? Perhaps Ku–- Mr. Hummel will be able to give us some insight into the thief’s possible movements and then we can gather the team and go from there?”

 

\---

 

The case doesn’t turn out to be that difficult after all. The only impressive parts about the theft are the way the culprit got in and out of the building, and Kurt easily traces his steps from the information he gets from Isabelle. When they figure out the thief’s exit plan, all they have to do is check a few security and traffic cameras for anything suspicious. Blaine immediately recognizes one of the people walking away from the Vogue building at the time of the theft as one of FBI’s old acquaintances, a jewel thief who has managed to avoid prison so far and whose most used alias pops up on their radar. From there on the case moves swiftly, and only two days later they have the diamond back in the Vogue offices and the culprit in custody.

It’s a neat resolution for a stressful week. Isabelle thanks them profusely and compliments Kurt’s sketches one more time, asking him to contact her if he ever needs a life-long subscription of Vogue (he might just take her up on that offer), and then practically skips out of the office, happy to keep her job, her high heels clicking against the floor.

Blaine drives Kurt home in the evening, both of them smiling to themselves after a job well done and quietly humming along to the radio, and Kurt thinks that maybe, maybe things are okay after all -– perhaps Blaine has just been stressed after the Caine case, and now that they’ve successfully solved another bigger case in record time and showed everyone at the office that they can still work together despite their relationship, things can hopefully go back to the way they were.

Kurt has missed Blaine. He really has. He has missed even the little things, the way Blaine always squeezes his hand, the way he smiles at Perry and puts too much sugar in his coffee. He just wants to hold him and kiss him and wake up next to him again. Isabelle’s comments about his sketches and Rachel’s questions about his future are still echoing around his head, making his thoughts feel like a confused mess. He really does have no idea what he will do if and when the deal is over, but at least right now, in this moment, things with Blaine seem more constant after the whirlwind of the last few days.

Blaine stops the car outside Kurt’s building, killing the engine and turning the radio off. Kurt startles from his thoughts, looks out of the car window, and frowns.

“I thought we were going to your apartment?” he wonders out loud, turning to look at Blaine over the center console.

Blaine doesn’t meet Kurt’s eyes, his fingers drumming slowly against the steering wheel.

“Are you coming inside then?” Kurt asks with a small smile, leaning closer and reaching out for Blaine’s hand. “I have those coffee beans you like?”

Blaine swallows, his throat bobbing. His eyes seem conflicted. “I... I don’t think that’s such a good idea right now,” he finally says in a low voice.

Kurt draws his hand back, stung and upset. So much for Blaine being a constant; so much for things being alright. “Right now?” he repeats. “Well, when will you think it’s a good idea? Because the last time I checked we were still dating, but I feel like I haven’t seen you outside the office for over a week.”

Blaine lets go of the steering wheel, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Kurt...”

“Are we still dating?” Kurt can’t help but ask.

“Of course we are, Kurt, but it’s just-–” Blaine trails off, huffing out a breath in frustration.

“It’s just what?” Kurt snaps. He has been dealing with this for over a week, second-guessing everything and trying to figure out what’s going on, and he can’t take it anymore. They just solved a big case, with team effort at that, but Blaine is still distant, still pulling back, and it’s so out of the ordinary that Kurt has to know what’s causing it.

“I said we should keep our distance, and you agreed with me,” Blaine reminds him, that same horrible sense of resignation in his voice. Kurt doesn’t even know what he’s resigning himself to.

“I thought you meant at the office,” Kurt counters, turning on his seat so he can face Blaine. “I didn’t think we would give up on our personal lives just to be careful.” He blinks away the sudden tears in his eyes. “We almost lost everything during that Caine case, Blaine.”

Blaine shivers and looks away. “You don’t have to remind me,” he mumbles.

“We almost lost everything,” Kurt repeats in a slightly louder voice, “and now I feel like I’m losing you anyway.”

Blaine turns to look at him, his eyes desperate, as if he’s trying to make Kurt understand. “You’re not losing me.” He drags his fingers through his hair, messing up the gel. “I’m the one who could be losing you. Don’t you see it, Kurt? We don’t have personal lives.”

Kurt flinches, his heart stuttering inside his chest. He turns away quickly and releases his seat belt. This was a bad idea. He needs his space right now, needs to clear his head after the confusing weeks he’s had, and Blaine is not making anything any better right now, not the way he usually does. It’s like Kurt was thrown straight from his straining undercover assignment with Caine to this equally straining weirdness between him and Blaine, and he wishes that there weren’t any doubts, that trusting Blaine would be enough, but apparently he can’t let go of his skeptical con-man instincts, not when he can’t seem to grasp Blaine or his own future or their future together. He thought he had three years left until he would have to worry about these things, but apparently he was wrong.

Kurt reaches for the door handle and spits out, “Maybe you shouldn’t come up tonight then. I have an idea for a new painting and I don’t want any distractions from my so-called personal life.”

The words taste sour when they come out of his mouth, and from the corner of his eyes he can see Blaine reaching out towards him.

“No, Kurt, I didn’t mean it like that,” he pleads. “If someone finds out about... You have to understand, it’s only because my bosses have access to-–”

Kurt gets out of the car before Blaine can finish his sentence or reach him. He stops on the sidewalk, takes a deep breath and only then turns around to look at Blaine, the car door still open between them. Blaine is staring at him from the driver’s seat, his hand hovering over the parking brake and his eyes sad and confused and frustrated, so many conflicting emotions shining from them. Kurt takes another breath, his fingers gripping the car window tightly. He has been doing this ever since he can remember, reeling his true feelings back in, but when he’s with Blaine he can’t seem to remember how to do it.

“I think both of us need some space right now,” he eventually says in a steady voice. Blaine opens his mouth, but Kurt stops him with a shake of his head. “I just feel like I’m too... emotional right now, and I’m not used to being this emotional, and I’m probably -– hopefully –- misinterpreting everything you say, so can we just... go to our separate homes and talk about this tomorrow? Or will you still think that it’s not a good idea?” he can’t help but add, and god, the way Blaine flinches away from him makes his heart ache because he did that, he spit those words against Blaine’s face and meant them.

Blaine’s hand finally falls down. “Y-yeah, we should... We should probably do that,” he sighs, looking tired all of a sudden. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” He looks into Kurt’s eyes. “I promise. We’ll talk this through and figure out what’s going on and where we’ve misinterpreted each other.”

His eyes are so earnest that Kurt can’t help but nod. “Okay. Just... Drive safely,” he adds as a afterthought. He does still love Blaine, even if everything seems a little unsure right now. He closes the car door and turns around, walking quickly to his building and not looking back even though he can’t hear the sound of Blaine’s car starting again.

When he gets to his loft and looks out of the window, Blaine has driven away.

 

\---

 

Kurt paints and draws, spreading everything on canvas and on the pages of his sketchbooks, but a few hours later he can’t take the silence anymore, worry twisting itself up in knots inside his stomach. He texts Blaine, the answering message lighting up his screen only a moment later.

 

 **From Kurt:**  
_At least tell me you did get home safely._

 

 **From Blaine:**  
_I did._

 

There’s nothing more; just those two words, and Kurt knows it means that Blaine is going to respect his request and wait until tomorrow so they both get the chance to calm down. He doesn’t know how much he’s actually going to calm down, though. When he finally goes to bed, much later than he usually does, flecks of paint and charcoal still smudging his fingers, he spends most of the night staring at the ceiling, too many thoughts chasing each other around in his mind.

The skin under his tracking anklet keeps itching.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another interlude from Kurt’s POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. This is the big chapter. And not just because it's longer than any of the others so far.
> 
> Also, just in case -- this chapter does mention Finn quite a lot. If you have any questions, you can come to [my ask on tumblr](http://afterthenovels.tumblr.com/ask).

Blaine doesn’t pick Kurt up before work the next morning. It’s Friday, and Kurt knows that it’s the only day in the week when Blaine actually gets up earlier than usual so he can go for a long jog with Perry before work. Kurt has joined them a few times, if he has stayed the night, but usually he walks or takes the subway to the Bureau on Fridays, so he’s not that upset.

He doesn’t expect their conversation to happen until after work anyway.

The loft still feels empty and cold, his footsteps echoing around the space, but he washes the last paint smudges from his hands and dresses himself in record time, and when he steps out of his building the New York City air feels welcome in his lungs. He buys coffee from his favorite coffee shop and walks to work, trying to push down the anxiety swirling around his body. He and Blaine still have a whole work day ahead of them before they can talk about everything and figure out what’s going on. There’s no reason to get worked up beforehand and act weird around the office.

It’s still early when Kurt steps into the White Collar Division some time later. Most of the agents haven’t even arrived yet, but the first thing Kurt notices is that the door to Blaine’s office is closed and even the heavy curtains are drawn over the glass walls, making the usually inviting room look closed-off and dark. Kurt stops in his tracks, staring at the curtains in confusion across the bullpen.

“He’s been there for a while,” Sam’s voice says next to him, and Kurt startles, looking towards the voice. Sam is sitting behind his own desk, his eyes fixed on Blaine’s office as well and his brows furrowed.

“Why are the curtains closed?” Kurt asks. The only time he’s seen them closed before was when Blaine was exhausted after the Gilbert case, and back then it was only because Blaine was so tired that he needed a moment on his own and didn’t want anyone from his team to see him like that. Blaine doesn’t even like the curtains, doesn’t like to close the door behind him unless he’s having a meeting. The office isn’t that big, and Kurt knows that the openness the glass walls provide is one of Blaine’s favorite things about it.

Sam shrugs, turning to look at Kurt. “I don’t know, man. He came to work looking a little tired but otherwise okay, and then a moment later when I looked up...” He gestures at the upper level.

Kurt frowns, looking back at Blaine’s office. “Have you tried knocking on his door?”

“Nope.” Sam stretches his arms above his head. “Tina was going to go ask him if anything was wrong, but I talked her out of it. Those curtains are a pretty clear ‘do not disturb’ sign to me.”

Kurt squares his shoulders. “Well, I’m going to disturb him anyway,” he says offhandedly. “I have something I want to talk to him about.” He doesn’t, at least not anything he wants to talk about at work, but seeing Blaine’s office so shut-off is unsettling, and he can’t help but feel like something’s even more wrong than it was last night.

“Good luck with that,” Sam wishes him with another shrug and goes back to his computer.

Kurt walks up the stairs to the upper level and pauses outside the door to Blaine’s office. He can’t hear any noises coming from inside, and for a moment he debates whether or not he should knock, but in the end he just pushes the handle down and quietly cracks the door open, peering into the room.

Blaine is leaning against the back wall, just like he was after the Gilbert case -– except this time he has his phone pressed against his ear, his other hand resting on the nape of his neck. He’s staring at the floor, and it looks like he’s been in that position for several minutes already. He doesn’t look up when Kurt steps inside, doesn’t even seem to notice that he’s not alone anymore, and Kurt can see the way his whole body is coiled up tight, his muscles tense and his hand gripping the phone so tightly that his knuckles have turned white.

Sam was right; he does look tired, but he also looks... genuinely upset and angry, something Kurt hasn’t seen on Blaine’s face that often. His brows are furrowed, the line of his mouth tight, and he seems to be biting back words as he listens to the person on the other end of the line.

Kurt steps further into the room, still unnoticed, and at the same moment Blaine opens his mouth, his face twisting.

“Why did you call, Cooper?” he says into the phone, his voice even, but Kurt can hear the underlying anger behind it. “No, seriously, why did you call? Because you haven’t called in _years_ , you didn’t answer any of my calls back when I still tried to call you, and you don’t-–”

He looks up and stops when he sees Kurt, his eyes widening. Kurt closes the door behind him and steps closer. Things might be complicated between them right now, but Blaine looks so tense, so closed-off, that Kurt instinctively wants to reach out for him and try to make it better. They stare at each other for a moment, and then Kurt can hear the tinny voice from the phone becoming louder, and Blaine looks away, his eyes blazing.

“Don’t you dare use that excuse on me,” he hisses into the phone. “Don’t you fucking dare, Cooper. I’m an FBI agent, I know what it’s like when your work is your life and that life is so busy you barely have time to sleep, but I still tried to call you. I tried to call you several times, and you never answered and-–”

He obviously gets cut off again. Blaine pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes closing and his shoulders slumping down. Kurt takes another slow step towards him, like he’s trying to approach a terrified wild animal.

“Look, a simple apology isn’t going to cut it anymore, okay?” Blaine says, the anger in his voice suddenly replaced by weariness. “I can’t-– I can’t have this conversation right now. I’ll call you later.”

He disconnects the call without saying goodbye and then throws his phone on the desk before burying his face in his hands, the tips of his index fingers massaging his temples.

“Blaine?” Kurt ventures after a moment, taking another step.

Blaine’s shoulders shudder as he takes a breath. He lowers his hands but doesn’t look up, doesn’t meet Kurt’s eyes. “Sorry,” he says in a low voice.

Kurt stops, confused. “Why?”

“Sorry that you had to witness the not-so-warm reunion between me and my brother.” Blaine rubs his hand over his forehead. The words are bitter, but the way Blaine says them sounds more tired than anything else.

“Your _brother_?” Kurt blurts out, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. “The brother you barely talk about and never mention by name?”

Blaine gives a half-hearted shrug. “That’s the one.” His voice turns sarcastic, and it’s so unusual that Kurt almost flinches away from it. “The one and only Cooper Anderson,” Blaine says, “the star of several B-rated movies and the face of Free Credit Rating Today Dot Com commercials. The man who most of the time doesn’t... doesn’t even remember that he has a younger brother,” he adds in a defeated voice.

“Blaine...” Kurt starts worriedly, reaching out for him.

Blaine lets out a choked-off laugh that sounds more like a scoff and shakes his head. “God, trust Cooper to mess everything up once again.”

Kurt strokes his hand down Blaine’s arm with a sympathetic smile until he can close his fingers loosely around his wrist. “Do you... Do you want to talk about it?”

“N-no, not really,” Blaine says, his breath stuttering in his throat. “I just... I think I need some space.”

Kurt lifts his eyebrows in surprise, but he does remove his hand, even though the loss of his touch seems to make Blaine’s shoulders even more tense.

“I know we were supposed to talk today,” Blaine continues, wrapping his arms around himself, “but I just... I have to go home. I can’t be at the office after that.” He looks at something over Kurt’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t be of any use to you guys anyway. I haven’t used my vacation days in years so I can just say that I’m not feeling well and go home for the rest of the day.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Kurt asks carefully, tilting his head, his hands itching to pull Blaine closer and never let him go.

“No, that’s not-– I need my space. Like I said.” Blaine hunches his shoulders. “Sorry. Can you... You could come to my apartment tomorrow and then we’ll talk? I just... I need to be alone right now, and I don’t think-–”

“It’s okay,” Kurt rushes to assure. “We can talk tomorrow.”

Blaine nods. “Thank you,” he breathes out, some of the tension melting from his shoulders. He finally pushes himself off the wall, grabs his phone from the desk and drops it in his pocket. His hands seem restless, clenching into fists a few times, and Kurt suddenly understands why Blaine calls boxing his stress relief. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks, hopeful.

“Tomorrow,” Kurt promises. “Just take care of yourself. Please.”

Blaine nods, a ghost of a smile passing over his lips. He reaches out his hand, hesitating for a moment before he pats Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt looks at the hand on his shoulder and he can feel his own frown deepening -– but then Blaine’s hand is gone and he’s snatching his coat from the back of his chair, opening the door of his office and stepping out with one last glance back at Kurt.

It almost looks like he’s escaping, running away from his brother and all the problems between them.

When Kurt sits down behind his own desk a while later, Sam looks up from his computer. “What’s up with Blaine?”

“He’s not feeling well,” Kurt answers.

“Oh shit,” Sam swears, cringing. “Let’s hope it’s not that office bug going around Organized Crime.”

Kurt stares at the blank forms and unfinished paperwork on his desk, not really seeing them. Something seemed off about Blaine’s reaction, but he doesn’t know what it was, can’t quite put his finger on it. Yes, Blaine has been acting distant, but this was different. There was something that Blaine said that sounded odd, and...

It takes him a while to realize what it was, but then he remembers the way Blaine’s muscles tightened when Kurt let go of him, and there it is. Blaine doesn’t need space. Blaine never needs space when he’s upset –- he might need it when he’s frustrated or angry, but when he’s upset he needs closeness and contact and touches, something to ground him, someone to stroke his back and hold his hand. They’re different in that way: Kurt does sometimes need his space when he’s upset or angry or tired, even if being with Blaine has knocked some of those walls down. Blaine on the other hand might _think_ that he needs space, might think that he doesn’t want to bring anyone else down with his own bad mood and therefore should be left alone, but Kurt knows it doesn’t actually help Blaine.

Being left alone probably only makes Blaine feel even worse, and god, how didn’t Kurt realize this earlier?

(They had an awful case a few months ago –- a dirty lawyer running a large adoption scam, and Kurt still can’t understand how someone could use defenseless children like that. Everyone at the office, including Sam, who usually doesn’t get too fazed by any of their cases, was understandably upset as they worked their best to solve the case. It had a happy ending, thank goodness, but Blaine still clung to Kurt when they went to bed that night, telling him in a low voice how he had briefly thought about becoming a teacher once upon a time and how seeing anyone exploit children in any way made him feel so angry and helpless. Blaine kept inching closer to Kurt with every sentence and didn’t let go of him until the morning.

They both have years of experience of the worst parts of people, so the should probably be used to it by now. But they’ve also dealt with it all alone for years, and they are not alone anymore.)

Kurt stands up so fast that he almost knocks over his chair, paperwork long forgotten. Sam startles at the sudden movement, flailing for a moment before his eyes focus on Kurt.

“I’m not feeling that well either,” Kurt says to him before he strides out of the office.

 

_\---_

 

Kurt lets himself into Blaine’s apartment thirty minutes later, closing the door quietly behind him. The living room is empty and dark, as is the small dining room, and he doesn’t see Perry anywhere, even though she usually greets him right at the door. He wonders if Blaine went boxing instead and isn’t even at home yet, but then he hears the familiar slow _thump-thump_ sound Perry’s tail makes when it hits the floor, and he knows that Blaine is home. He makes his way through the apartment until he reaches Blaine’s bedroom, stopping on the threshold and unconsciously releasing the breath he had been holding.

Blaine is sitting on his bed, still wearing his work shirt and pants, his tie loosened around his neck. The lights are off, but the bed is neatly made and Blaine’s jacket is folded carefully over the bedpost. Perry is sitting on the floor next to his feet, her tail slowly swishing against the floor and her tongue lolling out of her mouth, and Blaine’s hand is buried in her fur, his fingers scratching behind her ears. There’s still that ghost of a smile on his face, like he doesn’t have energy to turn it into a real one, but at least the smile does reach his eyes when Perry butts her head against his hand.

He is so quiet and still that it looks wrong to Kurt –- Blaine can be quiet, of course he can, but Kurt is used to the Blaine who sings along to the radio and commands people on crime scenes, to the Blaine who gives advice and explains cases in the conference room, the one who only stops moving when he’s listening to something carefully or when he’s asleep and wrapped around Kurt beneath their comforter.

“Hi,” Kurt says quietly.

Blaine looks up at him, his eyes widening even though he doesn’t startle in surprise. “Hi,” he says back. “What are you-– You’re here.”

“I was worried about you,” Kurt explains, stepping into the room. “Do you mind if I...?” He gestures at the bed hesitantly.

“Oh.” Blaine blinks before he scoots to the side, making more room for Kurt even though there was already plenty of space on the bed. “Sure, go ahead.”

“Thank you.” Kurt smiles and sits down on the bed next to him, so close that their thighs are touching. Perry finally notices him, her tail thumping more quickly, and she leans in to nuzzle Kurt’s thigh, the familiar Labrador smile aimed at him. Kurt pets her head for a moment, and then she huffs and lies down on the floor in front of them, looking weirdly calm now that Kurt is here, as if she was just keeping Blaine company until he arrived.

“You didn’t have to come,” Blaine says after a moment, his hands clasped in his lap now that he doesn’t have anywhere else to put them.

“Of course I did,” Kurt murmurs and reaches out, taking Blaine’s hand in his own and stroking his thumb over his knuckles. Blaine lets out a shaky breath, but Kurt can feel him immediately relax against him, the muscles on his arms loosening and the tension in his jaw disappearing. “You’re my boyfriend and I was worried about you, so of course I had to come.”

Blaine’s mouth twitches, and he turns his hand over so he can lace their fingers together. “I know you’re my boyfriend,” he says quietly, “but I also know that things are kind of difficult between us right now, so I didn’t want you to-–”

Kurt bristles. “If you say you didn’t want me to feel obligated to support you, Blaine Devon Anderson, I will smack you on the head with that pillow over there. And it won’t be a gentle, two-little-kids-in-a-pillow-fight slap.”

Blaine lets out a laugh. “Okay, okay, sorry.” He squeezes Kurt’s hand. “I just had to get out of the office,” he adds as an afterthought. “Cooper has this habit of ruining every good day in my life.”

Kurt leans closer to him, feeling the bed dip under their combined weight. “What do you mean?” he asks in a quiet voice, hoping that Blaine won’t shut him out this time.

“Well, the last time I properly talked to him was on the day I got hired by the White Collar Division,” Blaine says, scrunching up his nose in thought. “He always seemed to think that my FBI dream was just a phase or something. The whole time I was training at Quantico he kept asking me when I was going to stop and go back to doing _something_ , even though there wasn’t anything I wanted to go back to. I wanted to be an agent,” he stresses. “That’s all there was to it.”

Perry shifts on the floor with a grunt, and Blaine pauses, looking at her and gently trailing his socked foot over her back. He looks worried, Kurt notices.

“So what happened?” he prompts.

Blaine keeps staring at Perry, the frown on his face deepening. “I finished my training, despite Cooper’s disapproval, and immediately got hired by the Bureau.” He shakes his head, almost as if he still can’t quite believe that he got hired so quickly. “I mean, _god_ , I got just the job I was hoping for, in just the right city, so of course I went out that night with Sam and a few other agents to celebrate all the hard work we’d done -– and then in the middle of the evening Cooper calls me completely out of the blue. He hadn’t called me in weeks, so I figured mom had told him that I’d gotten hired and he was calling to congratulate me, that maybe he’d finally realized that this wasn’t just some phase for me. But instead...”

Blaine pauses, his voice sounding smaller. “Instead he said that now the only thing I was good for was helping him get into character if he ever got cast as a G-man.”

Kurt freezes, leaning away in shock. “He said that?” he asks, incredulous. “He really said that to you after you’d gotten hired for a job most people wouldn’t even dare to dream about?”

“That’s Cooper for you,” Blaine comments dryly, his hand twitching against Kurt’s. “Obviously I was upset, so I told him that it wasn’t about him, it was about me and my life, and he kept saying how I couldn’t possibly want to be an FBI agent for the rest of my life and then I called him a self-centered asshole and-– well, he hung up on me.” Blaine shrugs. “I drank too much that night and woke up the next day with a terrible hang-over, but I felt somewhat calmer so I tried to call him and maybe talk things through, but he didn’t answer. He never answered any of my calls after that, and eventually I just... gave up.”

Kurt blinks. “So before today, you hadn’t heard from your brother in years?” he manages to get out through the sudden roughness in his throat, feeling something tighten inside his chest. God, he and Blaine are more alike than he thought.

“He sends a very generic birthday card every year and sometimes even a Christmas card, but yeah, that’s pretty much it.” Blaine swallows thickly, his eyes blinking rapidly and something wet sticking to his eyelashes, and Kurt instinctively squeezes his hands, shifting closer to him on the bed. Blaine sags against him, resting his head on his shoulder and exhaling a shaky breath.

“What about your parents? You never really talk about them either, but couldn't they have smacked some sense into your brother?” Kurt asks when Blaine seems to have calmed down.

“Oh, they’re fine with my career,” Blaine answers, still looking at Perry. “They’re even proud, I suppose -– my mom’s a lawyer and dad was an insurance investigator before he retired, so it’s almost like I’m following in their footsteps. They’re just, you know, busy. So when I told them that Cooper and I had had a falling out, they said that we’re both adults now and we can settle our differences on our own. Which, let’s face it, will most likely never happen,” he scoffs.

Kurt bites his lower lip. Blaine barely mentions his family at work, and the things he told Kurt right now are probably something not even Sam knows about, no matter how close he and Blaine are. Kurt wants to help, wants to say something meaningful and be there for Blaine, just the way Blaine was there for him when he was struggling with everything concerning Rachel, but... There’s only one thing that comes to his mind, and as much as he loves Blaine, as much as he thinks this is it for him, that this is the one thing he used to dream about when he was young and a silly romantic, he still doesn’t know if he can tell this particular story even to Blaine.

He still has no idea why Blaine has been acting so distant, and Blaine always has a reason for everything he does. Kurt used to wonder about those reasons back when they had just begun their partnership, confused by some of Blaine’s actions that didn’t sit right with the mental image Kurt had about FBI agents, but then slowly, with all the conversations they had and all the things he read between the lines, he started to realize that most of time Blaine has a rather simple reason for the things that might seem incomprehensible to anyone else.

Kurt nudges Blaine’s head gently with his shoulder until he straightens up and turns to look at Kurt. His eyes are hooded, traces of sadness still clearly visible in them, and Kurt feels his chest clench painfully at the sight. He disentangles his hand from Blaine’s, lifting it to cup Blaine’s face instead, and then leans in until he can press their lips together in a slow kiss. Blaine’s eyelids flutter closed at the touch, a small sigh escaping from his lips, and the last remains of tension melt away from him. His fingers move to curl against Kurt’s thigh, feather-light but still somehow anchoring both of them, and after a moment Kurt breaks the kiss, resting their foreheads together and breathing in the familiar scent of Blaine’s skin.

“I love you,” he breathes out when Blaine blinks his eyes open.

“I love you too,” Blaine replies instantly, without doubts or hesitation, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, the easiest words he has ever had to say, and Kurt knows without a doubt that most of the time that love is the reason for everything Blaine does.

He can feel the words bubbling up inside him, so he gives one more peck against Blaine’s lips before he leans away and lets his hand drop down back to his lap. Blaine is looking at him curiously, as if he knows that something important is going to happen, and he slowly moves his own hand away from Kurt’s thigh, instinctively giving him more space.

Sometimes it scares Kurt how well Blaine knows him without even knowing everything about him.

“My... My mom died when I was eight,” he breathes out after a moment, looking down on his lap, feeling his throat clench. No matter how many years pass, his mom’s death will always be something that makes him feel like crying. “It was rough,” he continues, “and for many years it was just me and my dad, but we did alright. I don’t remember much about my mom, not anymore –- just the scent of her perfume and the way she looked and some of the songs she used to sing to me –- but my dad... He was always there for me. He’s literally the best dad anyone could ask for.”

“Do you look more like your dad or your mom?” Blaine asks gently when he doesn’t continue.

Kurt startles, surprised by the question. He turns to look at Blaine, and the small smile on his face seems to say so many things -– _I’m so sorry for your mom I’m so glad you had your dad I can’t believe you’re telling me this they both sound so wonderful_ –- that Kurt automatically smiles back, even if it’s a little watery.

“Dad used to say that I look exactly like my mom,” he says, his voice turning wistful, “but I’ve had other people tell me that some of my mannerisms and gestures are exactly the same as my Dad’s, so... Probably a bit like both, like most children.” He gives a small laugh and watches how Blaine’s smile softens.

“So how does Finn fit into the picture?” Blaine asks, tilting his head.

“Oh, when I was in high school, my dad married Finn’s mom, Carole, and then it wasn’t just the two of us anymore,” Kurt explains, leaning his hands against the bed. His foot accidentally nudges Perry with the movement, but the dog doesn’t even shift in her sleep, only lets out a slightly louder exhale. These are the easy parts of the story, the ones Kurt used to tell to every new person he met back when he hadn’t started his life of crime yet, but he knows the hard parts are coming up, and his heart beats a little faster in anxiety.

Blaine makes a small humming sound in understanding. “Finn’s your stepbrother,” he summarizes.

“Yeah, but I never-- We had our issues, but once we got over them I never really thought of him as my _step_ -brother. He’s my brother from a different mother,” Kurt says, and Blaine lets out a soft laugh at the last sentence. “Even now I’ve never...”

Kurt trails off, furrowing his brows. It’s been such a long time since he last saw Finn that it feels almost strange to talk about him.

Blaine shifts on the bed, crossing his legs and turning to face Kurt. He still keeps his distance, though, something for which Kurt is grateful. He wants to get through the whole story, and if Blaine touched him right now he’d probably break before he even got halfway through.

“Kurt?” Blaine asks after a few quiet moments, his voice careful. “You don’t have to tell me more if-–”

“No, no, that’s not it,” Kurt assures him. “I want to tell you, and I do have a point to all of this, but I just... I was wondering how detailed I should be to get my point across.”

“Whatever you want to tell me is enough,” Blaine says. Kurt looks at him and gives a small smile of his own. It really is scary how well Blaine knows him, but it also makes him feel safe, like he doesn’t have to worry about disappointing or confusing Blaine.

“Well, I guess...” Kurt starts, turning to look at the dark ceiling. “You already know that I wanted to go to NYADA,” he says and sees Blaine nod from the corner of his eye. “I didn’t get in, but I still came to New York after high school, hoping that I could find some work and reapply for the next semester. I shared a flat with Rachel and Santana, but when I’d been living here for a little over a month, I, um, got a call from Finn. He stayed behind in Ohio because New York wasn’t for him, and he... He told me that dad and Carole had disappeared.”

The words rush out of his mouth, as if they would hurt less if he said them quickly, and he can sense the way Blaine freezes next to him. “What?”

“They disappeared,” Kurt repeats, feeling the familiar lump in his throat and trying to swallow against it. “Without a trace. Finn was going to visit them and he found the house empty, with no sign of them –- no note, no message, no nothing. Just... gone.”

Blaine does reach out for him now, his hand hovering nervously right next to Kurt’s arm. “Kurt...”

“Finn and I both dropped everything and tried to look for them, but there was nothing to be found,” Kurt goes on, blinking his eyes and keeping them fixed on the familiar cracks above Blaine’s bed. If he stops now he’s never going to get these words out. “We tried everything, we searched through practically every inch of Ohio and through huge areas of the neighboring states, we contacted the police and the hospitals and everything, but there was just... nothing. They had completely disappeared from the radar. No one knew anything, and after several months of searching for them we were running out of money already and-–”

Blaine closes the remaining inches between them and settles his hand on Kurt’s arm, squeezing it tightly. The tears that have been pooling in Kurt’s eyes finally fall over and slide down his cheeks, a slow trickle over his skin, and Kurt furiously brushes them away with the sleeve of his jacket. He takes a shuddering breath, the air in his lungs feeling strangely slow and thick, and concentrates on the feeling of Blaine’s hand on his arm, warm and familiar and supportive, concentrates on the soft sound of Perry’s sleepy breathing.

He can do this. He can get through this. He’s already lived it once.

“So after a while,” he continues, even though his voice is on the verge of breaking, “when we were almost out of cash and couldn’t get any temporary jobs, I... I tried being a street artist. I’ve always been good at drawing and painting, so I painted a few reproductions of famous paintings and when I sold them, the buyers all said that they looked exactly like the real thing, and I thought... why not?” He shrugs. “So I contacted Santana, because I knew she had been doing something illegal to pay for her share of the rent back in New York, and she gave me some tips and suddenly... Suddenly I had more money. I could charm my way out of any trouble, and I figured that if the law enforcement didn’t know what happened to my dad and Carole, maybe the people who were on the opposite side of the law would.”

Blaine sucks in a breath, his fingers flexing against Kurt’s arm. “You became a con-man so you could find your parents?”

Kurt nods. Blaine will understand; Blaine always understands. “I did what I had to do.” He starts tapping his fingers quietly against the bedspread, the melody of _Defying Gravity_ automatically moving through his fingertips so he can have something else to focus on as well. “I kept my own name so dad and Carole could find me if they came back,” he continues, “but otherwise I pretty much came up with a new identity for myself. I did a job for one of Santana’s friends, this really talented hacker who could break into any database known to man, and in return he practically erased the old Kurt Hummel from all official records. After that the only member of my family who still existed on paper was Finn.” His voice does break now, and Kurt hates it, hates the way it makes him sound, hates what causes it. “I... disappeared, just like my dad.”

Blaine lets out a choked-off noise, and then his arms are around Kurt, pulling him into a fierce, protective embrace. Kurt goes willingly, buries his face into Blaine’s chest, breathes in the comforting scent of Blaine’s laundry detergent and the smell of his skin, letting his tears and sobs soak into the crisp fabric of Blaine’s shirt. Kurt can feel something wet against his own head when Blaine kisses his hair, and the realization that Blaine is crying for him makes him shift his body until he wrap his own arms more tightly around Blaine’s waist as well.

It’s safe. It’s home. It’s everything Kurt hasn’t felt in years and feared he would never feel again.

“Did... Did Finn know about it?” Blaine asks after a moment, his voice thin and his hand stroking down Kurt’s back.

Kurt takes a deep breath and leans away, still staying in Blaine’s arms but giving them a little more breathing space. “No, not at first,” he admits. “But when he found out... Well, he wasn’t exactly happy about it. He thought it was reckless and wrong in every way. I do see his point now, I really do, but back then...” He hesitates. “I was so desperate back then. I thought I had nothing else left –- dad and Carole were gone, Rachel and I had fallen out, I’d lost contact with all of my other friends besides Santana, and I had basically given up on all of my old dreams.”

He looks into Blaine’s eyes, trying to get his point across. “You have to understand that running a con... it’s like a rush. You easily get addicted to it, especially if you’re good at it. And I was good at it, and I wanted to be even better and do even bigger cons, and Finn didn’t approve of that, so we...” He looks away, shrugging his shoulders. “We decided to go our separate ways. We said that it was because it would be easier to find dad and Carole if we split up, but we both knew that we actually did it because of our disagreement.” His own voice sounds small in his ears.

“So why did you start looking for him again before we caught you?” Blaine asks, his hand still moving over Kurt’s back, soothing and healing.

“Because I realized I had something else left as well. I had spent years on the run, ignoring everything else, but I still had him, I still had my brother if I could just find him, and I...” Kurt sighs, rubbing the back of his hand angrily over his face. “Well, obviously in the end I didn’t really have him either.”

“Kurt...” Blaine starts, his hand stopping in its movement.

Kurt shakes his head, getting himself back on track, and meets Blaine’s eyes. “Look, all I’m saying with this is that you only get one brother, Blaine. Don’t give up on that. I lost mine after I’d already lost my dad and Carole and everyone else. I have no idea where he is these days, but I would do literally anything to get him back.”

Blaine clenches his jaw, pulling his hands away. “I thought we were talking about you, not about my sibling issues,” he points out, that same ghost of a smile passing over his lips.

“We were,” Kurt admits, giving a small smile himself now that he’s done with the hard parts, “but I also wanted to make a point. What Cooper did was wrong and you have every right to be angry at him -– but there must be a reason why he’s trying to apologize to you now. You Anderson men don’t seem to do anything without a good reason,” he adds, nudging Blaine’s leg with his own.

Blaine lets out a soft laugh, ducking his head and scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “You didn’t have to tell me all that about your past to make your point, you know.”

“I know. But I wanted to.” Kurt shrugs, feeling weirdly lighter now that he’s done. His eyes still itch and his face is probably a mess, and everything that’s happened will always be a silent weight inside of him, pulling him down if he doesn’t resist it, but he feels... relieved. Like some horrible secret he has been carrying around for years is finally out in the open and he doesn’t have to carry it on his own anymore -– and well, okay, that’s kind of what just happened, but he honestly didn’t expect it to feel this freeing.

Blaine is smiling at him, tender and soft and a little surprised, and then he leans in, his hand cupping Kurt’s face and his thumb stroking over his cheekbone as he kisses him, slow and sweet.

“Well then,” he murmurs against Kurt’s lips, brushing another kiss over them, “thank you for wanting to tell me. I know how much it means.”

Kurt nuzzles Blaine’s face, closing his eyes. He thought he would be a mess by the time he was done, but somehow Blaine makes him feel so safe and loved that even the pain from his past can’t hurt him too much. Of course it’s still there, reminding him of everything he’s lost, of everything he once had but doesn’t anymore, of all the things that could’ve gone differently. But it has been years already –- he hasn’t given up, definitely not; he still hopes that someday he will find his dad and Carole and Finn, that someday he can have his family back again -- but he has learned to live with it all. He has learned to keep going because he has no other choice.

His dad would’ve never wanted him to stop anyway.

“Yesterday you said...” Blaine starts suddenly, leaning away and licking his lips. “You said you felt like you were losing me.”

“Oh.” Kurt blinks, coming back from his past and suddenly remembering what’s been going on for the past few weeks. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“ _Kurt_.” Blaine scoots closer to him on the bed and takes his hands. Kurt has always loved the way Blaine says his name like it’s something reverent, something precious and important, and every time he hears it a small shiver goes up his spine. It makes him appreciate the fact that he didn’t change his name all those years ago even more. “You are not going to lose me,” Blaine vouches. “I know that I’ve been distant, but it’s only because... Well.” He pauses, looking at their joined hands.

“Yes?” Kurt prompts, his voice sounding nervous even in his own ears. He trusts Blaine, trusts him more than anyone else, of course he does -– but people are not static or constant. They are changeable and whimsical, they can change their minds and themselves, can turn into something better or into something worse; they can do unpredictable things or stick to their usual patterns, have reasons no one could’ve never guessed, and that’s what makes life so dangerous and fleeting. That’s what makes trust so dangerous and fleeting as well. But what’s life without a few risks?

“After the Caine case,” Blaine continues quietly, “I checked who has access to your tracking data. Besides me, practically all the higher-ups of the White Collar Division do, and then there are of course the Marshals and...” He huffs out a frustrated breath. “I panicked, okay? I thought about what it would look like if one of my bosses decided to check your tracking data –- they haven’t, so far, because aside from that one time you’ve never stepped outside your radius -– but what if they did decide to check it and saw that you’ve spent countless nights at my address?” He looks up at Kurt, earnest and worried. “How on earth could we explain that, Kurt?”

“But you said they’ve never checked my tracking data?” Kurt verifies.

“They haven’t,” Blaine admits, “but... I don’t know, I guess my mind just fixated on the idea that they _could_ , and that I have to keep you safe, that I can’t-– I almost got us caught during that Caine case, and I can’t mess up another time.” He shakes his head, looking even more frustrated. “I mean, god, of course I want you in my life, Kurt, I want you in my life more than _anything_ , but sometimes it feels like I can’t have you, not if I want to keep you safe as well.”

“Blaine, honey.” Kurt leans closer, tilting his head until he can meet Blaine’s eyes. The term of endearment slips almost instinctively from his lips. “You could’ve just told me that. We can spend more time at my loft if that’s what you’re worried about-–”

“No but that doesn’t work either,” Blaine interrupts, his breath suddenly hitching. “I need to spend time with Perry as well.” He gestures at the calmly sleeping dog lying on the floor next to the bed, a small, barely noticeable tremor running up his arm. “Ms. Avninder told me that Perry was sick a few weeks ago, when we were working on the Caine case -– apparently she threw up so many times that Ms. Avninder was worried it was something more serious, but it turned out she was just so stressed that her stomach started acting up -– and I didn’t even know. She’s my dog, and she was sick and I didn’t even _know_ , Kurt.” He shakes his head angrily, a lone tear slipping down his cheek. “I don’t want it to seem like I don’t want to come to your apartment, because of course I do, but I also have a dog and... God, this is such a mess.”

Blaine breathes out wetly, wiping his face clean with the sleeve of his shirt. Kurt glances down at Perry, feeling his own heart clench with fear when he imagines something happening to her and how it would affect Blaine -– or how it would affect himself; he loves that silly dog so much it’s almost ridiculous, considering he’s never seen himself as a dog person. “She’s fine though, isn’t she?” he can’t help but ask.

“Y-yeah, she is,” Blaine says. “She’s always had a sensitive stomach, so that’s all there was to it. You know what the weirdest part is, though?” he adds, his voice making it sound like he’s changing the subject. “Ever since you took this deal I’ve started keeping things from the FBI. You’ve basically confessed several of your old crimes to me, but I’ve never said anything about them to anyone. It’s something I thought I would never do, I was even trained against it, but the truth is... It doesn’t even bother me that much. It should probably bother me, shouldn’t it?” He turns to look at Kurt, his eyes desperate and confused. “But it doesn’t. When it comes to you, I just think that well, you never hurt anyone and you did already spend four years in prison and it’s all in the past, and that’s all there is to it. It... It scares me a little.”

Kurt swallows. “Does it scare you enough to want to give up?” he asks in a small voice.

Blaine immediately shakes his head. “God, no, of course not. It’s just... weird, I suppose.”

Kurt hesitates, pursing his lips in thought. “You know, Santana once told me that the only way you can get out of the con-man lifestyle is to hit rock bottom. I didn’t think anything of it back then, too high on my most recent con, but when I broke out of prison and you caught me for the second time... That must have been when I hit rock bottom. That’s when I had to realize that I can’t do this anymore.”

Blaine looks up at him, his eyes wide open and still shining with unshed tears. “R-really?” he stutters out.

Kurt nods and starts playing with Blaine’s hand, lacing their fingers together and then disentangling them again, feeling the way a blush is starting to spread over his cheeks. “Really. And ever since then you’ve been helping me to let go of my past and start thinking about a different future for myself. And maybe... Maybe that’s why I haven’t felt the need to step outside my radius or do anything illegal anymore. Maybe that’s why you’re willing to overlook my past as well?” he ventures carefully.

Blaine smiles, small and private. “Maybe. Besides, you’ll be a free man in three years. You won’t be restricted to a three-mile radius and a tracking anklet anymore. You can start anew.” He tugs at Kurt’s hand. “But I think the question is -– how are we going to deal with those next three years? Assuming that our relationship isn’t ending anytime soon.”

“It isn’t,” Kurt stresses. “Not unless you want it to? Because I know how important your job is to you, and I’d never-–”

“Kurt.” Blaine gives him a look. “The only reason I’ve been acting distant is because I didn’t want you to go to prison. Because I didn’t want our relationship to end.”

Kurt can’t help but smile at the conviction in Blaine’s voice. Sometimes the risk of trusting someone really is worth it. “Do you honestly think your bosses will check my tracking data one day?” he asks.

Blaine sighs, running his hand through his hair, making it stick up in different directions. “I don’t know. They haven’t, so far, and the only one who could have real interest in it is Peterson because he’s our immediate boss, but...”

“So maybe we could take a risk every now and then?” Kurt suggests, tilting his head.

“It’s a big risk.” Blaine frowns. “And I already messed up once, so...”

“Can you please stop saying that you messed up?” Kurt interrupts. He’s seriously considering reaching for that pillow right now. “You didn’t mess up anything, Blaine. We’re in this together. We can worry about everything together. You don’t have to push me away and carry this all on your own.”

“Like you’ve been doing with your past?” Blaine points out, but there’s only gentle teasing behind his words.

“And now I’ve stopped doing it,” Kurt notes. “So you-–” he pokes at Blaine’s nose with his finger, making Blaine’s face scrunch up in amusement “–-can stop doing all the worrying as well. Weren’t you the one who said that if we want this to work, we have to let each other in at some point?”

“I know, I know,” Blaine sighs. “I just... I can’t help feeling like I should be responsible. It’s probably the agent in me or something,” he mutters, scratching his head.

Kurt smiles. He can feel something warm unfurling in his chest when he looks at Blaine, at his earnest expression and all the complex emotions hidden inside of him, all the unpredictable and whimsical things that make him Blaine, make him the man Kurt trusts and loves more than anyone else. This is not the way he imagined this whole conversation going, not by a long shot. This is better.

“Do you want to take that risk with me?” Kurt asks. “We could still see each other outside work, but we wouldn’t have to do it so often as we did before, and we’d still keep our distance at the office. I think even Perry would appreciate it,” he adds with a small grin. “And if by some chance one of your bosses happens to check my tracking data, we’ll deal with it if and when it happens.”

Blaine huffs out a soft laugh. “You should know by now that you’re worth every risk I’ve ever taken.”

“So is that a yes?” Kurt can’t help but check.

“Yes,” Blaine laughs.

“Oh thank god,” Kurt exhales, his face breaking into a wide grin. He wants to kick his feet and preen a little, feeling like all his worries have evaporated with that one simple word, with the loving smile on Blaine’s face. “I’ve missed you so much,” he confesses.

“I’ve missed you too,” Blaine says, surging forward and kissing him again.

Perry makes a sleepy sound on the floor next to them, but they both ignore it, deepening the kiss until Kurt feels like nothing else exists except the slide of Blaine’s lips against his own, the way his tongue starts to slowly explore his mouth and the way Blaine’s fingers have curled around the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer. Blaine kisses like he’s hungry for it, like he can’t get enough of Kurt, and Kurt responds in kind, grabbing the front of Blaine’s shirt and tugging at it until they can lie down on the bed, Blaine climbing on top of him and not once stopping the kisses he trails over Kurt’s mouth.

It’s warm and exhilarating and loving, and god, Kurt really has missed this.

Later on, when Blaine is a sweaty, naked weight against Kurt’s chest, when their breathing is still echoing around the room and Kurt doesn’t even care how wrinkled his shirt is going to be after lying on the floor for such a long time, Blaine plants a drowsy kiss on the curve of Kurt’s neck and mumbles, already half-asleep, “I promise I’m never saying goodbye to you.”

Kurt has always thought that never is scary concept –- it’s unreliable, it’s something that a con-man can’t afford to think about, especially one with his past -– but when the word comes out of Blaine’s mouth it sounds like a promise, like a vow, like a declaration of love, and Kurt can feel sudden overwhelmed tears in his eyes.

“Okay,” he whispers hoarsely against Blaine’s curls.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating for this chapter is M, and for that I want to thank [Essi](http://crispyhush.tumblr.com) and [Inez](http://hearyoulaugh.tumblr.com). They know why. ;) Also, [Tiuku](http://tiuku.tumblr.com) deserves a special thank you, too - she knows why as well.
> 
> (Also, Sebastian will be making an appearance in this chapter, and before any of you get worried, let me just make it very clear that he is not here to cause a conflict between Kurt and Blaine. He barely even shows up after this chapter.)

Blaine closes the door behind him, drops his overnight bag on the floor of Kurt’s loft and watches as Perry starts inspecting every corner of the apartment, her tail wagging in excitement. It looks a bit weird, to see his dog inside Kurt’s place, but Perry herself doesn’t seem to mind, trotting from wall to wall and stopping to sniff at every piece of furniture she can reach.

“Why does this feel like we’re one of those celebrity couples who get an official court order after their divorce to share the custody of their pet?” Blaine asks, following the dog with his eyes.

Kurt stops in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips, watching Perry with a proud expression. “Don’t listen to him, girl, he’s just tired after his court day,” he says airily. He doesn’t even flinch when Perry nudges her muzzle against the easel in front of the window with curiosity. “Or did we get both married and get a divorce during the car ride here and you just forgot to tell me?” he adds, glancing at Blaine over his shoulder with a teasing grin.

Blaine chuckles, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. He can feel his cheeks heat up. “I’m just saying that this was your idea. If she throws up on your carpet, you don’t get to blame me for it.”

“She’s not going to throw up,” Kurt says, scratching Perry’s head when she passes him by. “Besides, this way you don’t have to worry about anyone checking my tracking data,” he points out. “And since Perry didn’t get car sick and has no problems with either stairs or elevators, I don’t really see what could be the problem.”

“Nothing,” Blaine admits. He crosses the space between them and wraps his arms around Kurt’s waist from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder and closing his eyes. Kurt feels familiar against him, firm and tall and slender, and Blaine nuzzles his nose against his neck, breathing him in. “Sorry. I really am tired. The court session seemed to drag on forever,” he mumbles.

Kurt hums and turns his head to kiss his temple. “But that forger was convicted, wasn’t she? Another case done and finished.”

“Yep, she’s going to prison. There was no question about that.” Blaine blinks his eyes open, frowning in thought. “It just took a long time to go through all that evidence and explain it to the jury and...”

He trails off when Perry suddenly stops next to his legs, looking up at them with her Labrador smile, her tail swishing back and forth. She looks weirdly proud, if dogs can look proud.

“I guess she approves of the place,” Kurt comments, and Blaine laughs, burying his face in the curve of Kurt’s neck.

It’s nice to know that he can do this, can be this close to Kurt. They haven’t been meeting outside of work as much as they used to before the Caine case, but they have still tried to arrange time for themselves, and it has certainly taken some getting used to. It took Blaine weeks just to silence the whispering voice inside his head that kept telling him that one of his superiors could check Kurt’s tracking data any day –- and the other voice that called him a bad dog owner every time he worked late –- but they both made compromises, and now it finally starts to feel like they have a working routine again.

And then Kurt came up with this idea, of bringing Perry to his loft so they can spend time together without worrying about the tracking anklet or stressing Perry, and for the first time in weeks Blaine’s mind is completely and blissfully empty of those nagging voices. Just getting to hold Kurt in his arms always makes him forget the long days he’s had. There have been a lot of court sessions lately, older cases finally making their way to court, and Blaine does like that side of his job as well –- court sessions and testifying are fascinating in their own way and a necessary link in the investigation chain, even if he could never see himself handling them for a living, not like his mother; he likes the investigation part far too much –- but unfortunately court sessions for white collar cases also tend to run very late almost every single time.

An evening alone with both Kurt and Perry was exactly what he needed, and judging from how relaxed and loose Kurt is in his arms, it’s probably something Kurt needed as well. Kurt has testified on a few cases as well during the last few weeks, and the attorneys always tend to get fixated on his criminal past and question anything and everything about his expertise. Blaine can only guess how tiring it must be.

He smiles down at Perry and tightens his hold on Kurt, swaying them a little in place. “Thank you,” he says softly.

“It’s nothing,” Kurt says, resting his own hands over Blaine’s. He looks around the loft, and Blaine can see him squint his eyes in consideration. “I must admit, though -– I actually like your place more than my own,” he muses.

“Why’s that?” Blaine asks, starting to trail slow kisses down Kurt’s neck. Perry gets bored of them and wanders off towards the kitchen with a harrumph, probably looking for the warmest place to lie down on. Apparently getting used to a new place wasn’t that big a deal for her.

“Well...” Kurt drawls, tilting his head to the side and giving Blaine’s lips better access. “I don’t really know. I guess your apartment just feels more... lived-in. More permanent. All of my things are here, all my clothes and sketches and paintings, but your apartment still feels more like home.”

Blaine smiles against Kurt’s skin, his chest feeling warm. “Even if the view isn’t as great?”

“Even–-  _oh_.” Kurt’s breath hitches when Blaine’s mouth founds a particularly tender spot and starts sucking on it gently. “Even if,” he finishes shakily. “I thought you were tired, Agent Anderson?”

“I was,” Blaine agrees, putting emphasis on the past tense and turning Kurt around in his arms so he can pull their hips together. He can already feel Kurt growing harder against his thigh, and it makes all the warmth in his chest shoot right down to his own groin. “But I think I need a shower first?” he adds, licking his lips and looking up at Kurt, trying to go for innocent but probably failing miserably.

Kurt’s eyes darken anyway, and he kisses Blaine’s lips, his hands moving to rest above his ass. “Is that a statement, or an invitation?” he asks with a grin, teasing his fingertips over the waistband of Blaine’s pants and fluttering his eyelashes. He does innocent so much better, probably thanks to his years as a con-man, and it’s _so_ not fair.

Blaine sucks in a breath when Kurt shifts his legs, aligning them together perfectly. “Yes,” he breathes out, stealing another kiss. “Just, _yes_.”

Kurt laughs and pats his ass. “You go ahead already. I’ll just hang my clothes and then I’ll join you.”

Blaine nods and forces himself to let go of Kurt, walking backwards towards the bathroom for a few steps. Kurt shakes his head in amusement before turning his back on him, and Blaine can’t help but watch the way Kurt’s body shifts when he shrugs out of his jacket, the graceful movement making Blaine’s mouth feel dry. He only turns around himself when he almost collides with a chair and then rushes through the loft, giving a quick smile when he notices that Perry has settled down in front of Kurt’s fridge, her muzzle resting between her front paws. She glances at Blaine when he passes her by in a hurry, but doesn’t even lift her head.

In the bathroom Blaine turns the shower on first -– it always takes a while for the water to turn warm since Kurt lives on the top floor and the building is quite old –- and only then shucks off his clothes, not folding them even nearly as neatly as Kurt would. He kicks off his underwear last and has just put his hand under the shower spray to check the water’s temperature, the air in the shower stall already feeling warmer, when Kurt’s naked body suddenly presses against his from behind, hot and hard (in every sense of the word, Blaine notices giddily), and Blaine gasps, leaning back against him.

“Y-you were fast,” he points out shakily. “Are you sure you hung your suit properly?”

“Of course I did,” Kurt murmurs, stroking his hands down Blaine’s chest and kissing the spot behind his ear. His voice turns almost reverent. “God, Blaine, you have no idea how much I want to have this in my life every single day. How much I want to have _you_.”

The warmth in Blaine’s stomach starts pooling lower, his skin feeling more alive everywhere Kurt is touching it. He steps under the shower, pulling Kurt with him, and turns around so they can kiss again, hard and messy and open-mouthed. Kurt’s hands immediately move to his hair, starting to work out the gel in gentle circles that seem to move in time with their kisses, and Blaine tugs him closer, running his own hands over Kurt’s wet back. The warm water feels lovely against his muscles, against all the tight knots the uncomfortable court house chairs have caused, but not as lovely and soothing as Kurt’s touch.

When Blaine feels the last remains of the gel loosening away, his lips already a little sore from all the kissing, Kurt pushes him against the wall so they’re not directly under the shower’s spray anymore, the cool tile making a sudden shiver run through Blaine’s back. He blinks the water out of his eyes, and Kurt gives his lips one last kiss, nibbling at his lower lip before he leans away. He looks so beautiful like this, flushed and wet and gorgeous, his hair fallen over his forehead and drops of water running down the lines and curves of his body, and just when Blaine is about to lean in and do something, perhaps lick at Kurt’s skin or kiss him some more, Kurt sinks down to his knees in front of him.

“I want to taste you,” he says, taking Blaine’s already hard cock in his hand and stroking it a few times, looking up at Blaine. “Can I?”

Blaine can’t help it; he whimpers, thumping the back of his head against the cool bathroom tile, his hands trying to find something he can hold on to. “Oh my god yes, _yes_ , of course, you don't even have to ask,” he babbles.

Kurt smirks and leans in, taking him into his mouth in one go without any preamble. Blaine’s hips twitch at the sudden feeling, his muscles fighting against his instincts to push in, and he moans, the sound echoing through the small space. They usually do this the other way around, which is perfectly fine as well -– Blaine loves giving just as much as receiving -– but this time is different: Kurt is uninhibited, completely loose and himself, no walls to hide behind, as if he’s letting himself be bold in this way when he’s with Blaine, as bold as he is with almost everything else in his life.

Blaine keeps his eyes closed, focusing on the sound of Kurt bobbing his head and sucking. He’s tired and already so worked up that if he even glances at Kurt all of this is going to be over embarrassingly soon. His fingers twitch weakly against the wall, and his whole body is shaking the whole time, small whimpers and moans the only sounds coming out of his mouth aside from the heavy breathing, and then after a while Kurt does something with his tongue, something complicated that feels _amazing_ , and okay, this is probably going to be over embarrassingly soon anyway.

“K-Kurt-–” Blaine stutters, blinking his eyes open and pushing weakly at Kurt’s shoulder.

Kurt only sinks his mouth lower, swallowing around him, and then Blaine is coming, pleasure shooting through his whole body. His muscles coil tight and his eyes screw back shut again as he gasps out, feeling like he has lost his breath, has forgotten who and where he is, the rushing in his ears drowning out the sound of the shower water still hitting the floor.

Blaine comes back when Kurt’s mouth finally slips away, his hands petting over Blaine’s trembling thighs. Blaine blinks his eyes open again. He is completely slumped against the wall, his body feeling boneless and exhausted, his breathing heavy and labored, and Kurt looks up at him from where he’s still kneeling, licking his lips absent-mindedly. Blaine whines.

“Kurt,” he breathes out, reaching out and pulling Kurt up so he can kiss him. “That was-– oh my god, you-–”

Kurt laughs breathlessly, kissing him back and practically supporting him even though his own knees seem to wobble a little as well. He’s still hard; Blaine can feel him against his thigh and he blindly reaches down, wrapping his fingers around Kurt’s cock and stroking him fast and hard. Kurt shudders against him, his mouth dropping open and his hips twitching desperately closer to Blaine’s hand.

“Blaine-–” Kurt starts to say, his voice breathy and higher than usual, but the rest of the words cut off when Blaine presses a messy kiss on Kurt’s collarbone and twists his hand. The movement seems to be enough because Kurt comes, shaking and moaning and dropping his forehead on Blaine’s shoulder.

They breathe heavily against each other for a while, letting their heartbeats slow down. The air is humid and hot around them, the shower still running next to them, and after a moment Kurt tugs them under its spray again, kissing Blaine wetly and tiredly. His eyelashes are wet spikes over his cheeks when he closes his eyes, and Blaine wraps his arms around him, kissing back as well as he can with the post-orgasm sluggishness slowing him down.

“I love you,” Kurt mumbles, his voice sounding wrecked and vulnerable.

And that’s it, that’s what makes Kurt seem so much more open and uninhibited than Blaine has ever seen him before. Ever since Kurt told him about his past and about everything that happened to him before he became a con-man it has felt like Kurt has given himself completely to Blaine, like he’s not holding back anymore, like they are suddenly on a much more equal footing. Blaine has always shared more, opened up more about what made him become an FBI agent and what his life has been like, and that’s okay -– he knows that Kurt has had his reasons and that it’s not easy for him to open up completely. He has already given Blaine so much, so much more than Blaine could have even anticipated over a year ago when he got that call from prison, and it has been more than enough. _Kurt_ has always been more than enough for him. He has made Blaine’s life more complicated but also so much better, so much more colorful and vibrant and alive and happy -– but ever since Cooper’s call and the following discussion it has been different. As if there are no more walls left, no more invisible weights holding Kurt down, no more con-man exterior for Kurt to hide behind when things get rough.

As if Blaine can finally see the real Kurt in all of his entirety.

They haven’t brought up Kurt’s family again in conversation, not yet, simply because there has been no need to, and Blaine himself hasn’t even called Cooper back yet because some childish part of him still thinks that it’s Cooper’s turn to reach out for him now. But all the information is still there, floating in the air around them, probably in the same way it has been following Kurt around for years like a dark shadow, and Blaine’s heart aches for him, for everything he has gone through and lost. He wishes desperately there was something he could do, some way to take all that pain and loss away and give Kurt his family back, but he knows that it’s a big mess and that he can’t just magically make it all better, no matter how hard he wishes. But there are some things he can do, a few smaller gestures and attempts, to hopefully make everything a little better for Kurt.

He remembers what he said to Peterson all those weeks ago -– _fearlessly and forever_  -– and kisses Kurt slowly, sliding their lips together under the shower.

“I love you too,” he whispers back, stroking his hand down Kurt’s trembling back, the water pouring over their skin. “So much.”

This is something he can do, and perhaps it helps, in some way. At least he can feel Kurt’s mouth turning into a smile against his own.

 

\---

 

Blaine has a small wooden box on top of the bookcase in his living room, partly hidden behind old mystery novels and the few flower vases he has. He keeps the box locked, not because it has anything that secretive, but because he doesn’t want just anyone to find it and look inside.

He keeps the birthday and Christmas cards Kurt sent him years and years ago in it, as well as a few of Kurt’s sketches. Most of them are quick drawings Kurt has just left lying around the office or around Blaine’s apartment, but some of them are also more detailed, more finished. Kurt has given them to him directly, but Blaine just doesn’t have enough wall space to frame all of them, so he keeps them in the box with everything else.

He has one of Kurt’s sketches framed in his office, a picture of a suit that Isabelle Wright complimented, and another one in his bedroom, a gorgeous detailed drawing of Perry Kurt sketched one lazy evening when they were watching TV and Perry was sleeping on the floor in front of them. He shyly gave it to Blaine when he was done, saying that he wanted him to have it, and Blaine was so touched that he couldn’t get a word out of his mouth and had to thank Kurt by kissing him senseless.

When Kurt noticed the drawing framed on the wall in Blaine’s bedroom a few days later, he looked so happy that Blaine had to kiss him senseless all over again.

The wooden box used to be the only locked compartment in Blaine’s life, the only physical container he wanted to keep safe from everyone else. Obviously he keeps his gun behind a sturdy lock when he’s not carrying it, but the door to his office is always open, and any secrets he has have always been kept within his mind, not as something concrete in boxes or safes –- but now he has also started to keep one of his desk drawers at the office locked. The drawer doesn’t have much in it, just his own copy of the Songbird case file, with his personal notes and additions. It’s for his eyes only, has been ever since the case first landed on his desk, and he recently made a few new notes in it for the first time in a long while, deciding then and there to keep it behind a lock and key from now on.

Kurt could probably pick the lock, as well the lock for the wooden box, but he has no reason to. Blaine knows he will tell Kurt about the box and the file someday. He probably knows about the box already, but Blaine doesn’t want to tell Kurt about the file until he’s absolutely sure of the things he’s quietly working on.

He doesn’t want to give Kurt any false hopes.

It’s a calm day at the office when Blaine takes the file out, stroking his fingertips over the well-worn corners with a small smile. It seems like a lifetime ago when he started keeping this file, when Kurt was just another case, and so many things have changed for the better since then.

Kurt is out having lunch with Rachel and Santana, and almost everyone else from the White Collar Division is out as well, either working or on their lunch break, so Blaine opens the file, looks through some of the papers inside it, and then places it aside, pulling the keyboard of his office computer closer. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually he opens one of the official governmental databases he has access to as the head agent of his own team.

He types the name _Finn Hudson_ in the search box and presses enter.

 

\---

 

“We have a new case,” Blaine says over the rim of his coffee cup when Kurt steps into the conference room. Blaine has spread out the case files over the table during the last hour he’s been going through them, and there are _a lot_ of them -– this already looks like a big case, probably bigger than anything they’ve ever worked on before, but it’s hard to tell when the investigation is still in its early stages.

“Yes, Blaine, I can see that,” Kurt says dryly, rolling his eyes and stopping next to Blaine. His eyes scan over the files in curiosity. “What’s it about?”

“We’re going to be working together with Organized Crime,” Blaine starts, taking the nearest file and giving it to Kurt.

“Ooh, a collaboration,” Kurt says, lifting his eyebrows in surprise.

Blaine nods and takes a sip of his coffee before continuing. “Yeah, they’ve been trying to solve this crime spree for a while now. At first it was just a string of robberies, and Organized Crime figured that it was connected to the mafia or to a highly skilled street gang. They’ve only been able to identify a few suspects so far and they all have links either to the mafia, to the local gangs or even to both, so it seems pretty complicated.”

Kurt looks up from the file he’s been browsing. “And where do we come in?”

“Well, apparently the crimes have started to become a lot more white collar recently. It’s still obviously the same group of people, perhaps with a few additions or some new experts brought in -– but look at the list of their targets.” Blaine points at the file Kurt is holding. “An art gallery, a museum, a few small banks... It’s not just cargo trucks or local businesses anymore. They’re moving up in the world.”

Kurt nods in understanding, his eyes skimming over the file’s contents. “And that’s where we come in,” he repeats.

“They specifically asked for our team,” Blaine mentions and can’t help but preen a little. His team has had the most impressive conviction rate in the New York office for a while now, but apparently they are so good and well-known these days that other divisions have started to specifically ask if they can work with them, bringing up Blaine’s name in their conversations with the higher-ups. It’s flattering, really -– Blaine doesn’t do his job for the glory or for pats on the shoulder; he does it because he knows he’s good at it and because he wants to help people, wants to solve the puzzles placed in front of him every day and set things right. But the sense of accomplishment still feels nice.

Kurt looks at him with a fond smile, as if he knows what he’s thinking about. “You’re excited, admit it.”

“Of course I am,” Blaine laughs, placing his coffee on the table and starting to organize the files into an order that makes more sense. “It’s a huge honor to get a request of assistance from another team, especially a team outside of our own division. And it’s Organized Crime, on top of that. They’re usually the ones who think we’re stepping on their turf any time we ask for their assistance on a case.”

Kurt shrugs, lifting his chin. “That’s because they’re jerks.”

Blaine stops, holding the files in his hand. “Kurt...” he warns gently, not wanting to insult the other division too much but secretly knowing that Kurt is right.

“What, you’ve seen the way they’ve looked at me when we’ve worked with them before,” Kurt argues, giving the last file to Blaine and leaning against the table. “It’s all sneers and distrust.”

“I know,” Blaine sighs, putting the files down and shifting closer so he can bump his shoulder against Kurt’s. It’s not what he wants to do, but they’re at the office and they have gotten used to the more professional relationship they have inside these walls. Friendly touches and conversation about their cases are alright, supportive kisses in the conference room are definitely not. Even if the team is alright with them, they’re not going to risk it.

“The CIs they deal with are very different from you, though,” Blaine points out. “It’s understandable that they’re suspicious. And I’m afraid I can’t promise things are going to be any different this time -– the agent they’re sending in to brief us will probably be even worse. He kind of... Um. Doesn’t like me.”

Kurt head turns around so fast that Blaine feels almost dizzy with the movement. “Are you saying that there are actual agents in the Bureau who don’t like you? But you’re always so...” he gestures at Blaine, furrowing his brows, “... likeable.”

“Stop it,” Blaine laughs. “You know just as well as I do that there are actually several people like that. Several people who would just love to see me...” He trails off, looking away and frowning.

Kurt nudges his shoulder this time. “I know,” he says softly, and Blaine can hear the honest understanding behind his words, the words he’s saying between the lines. “So why doesn’t this guy like you, then?” he asks, changing the subject. “Don’t tell me he’s a homophobe?”

Blaine snorts. “No, I think-– I think he actually plays for our team? I don’t know for sure. If he does, it’s never been brought up like it was with me. He has enough connections in the Bureau to prevent things like that from coming to light.” Blaine shrugs his shoulders. He’s not bitter and he’s over it, even if he still remembers how it felt to have his abilities as an agent questioned only because of his sexuality -– but knowing it all could’ve been prevented if he’d just had the right connections...

“Well, what is it then?” Kurt asks, straightening his bowtie (steel gray today) and looking at Blaine curiously.

“I... Um.” Blaine hesitates. “I was sort of offered his job before he got it.”

Kurt lifts his eyebrows. “And what job was that?”

“Er... Running Organized Crime?” Blaine ventures, giving a small smile.

Kurt blinks. “Are you telling me that they asked you to run a whole unit and you turned it down?”

Blaine fidgets. “I’m not that interested in organized crime?” he offers, shrugging his shoulders again and scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “Look, it was a few years ago when the position came up and I was the first one they offered it to -– but I like my current job, I like working white collar and I like running the team I already have, so I declined. And they gave it to Sebastian Smythe instead.”

“And now this Agent Smythe is going to work with us on this case,” Kurt clarifies, still looking at Blaine a little surprisedly.

“Yep,” Blaine says, popping out the final sound of the word. “And he kind of... resents me. So he’s going to resent you as well. But maybe we can work our angle and he can work his with Organized Crime and we won’t have to deal with him that much.” Blaine glances at Kurt, hoping he can get everything he wants to say but can’t right now across with his eyes alone.

Kurt gives him a smile, pushing himself off the table. “Well, at least the case seems interesting.”

“At least the case seems interesting,” Blaine repeats with a sigh.

 

\---

 

Sebastian Smythe looks Blaine up and down once before extending his hand for him, smirking like something about Blaine is inherently funny. “Special Agent Blaine Anderson,” he says, drawing out the name. “It’s been a while.”

Blaine smiles back politely and shakes Sebastian’s hand. He can act professional and respectful, even if he wants to grimace in reality. “It really has. You’re still running Organized Crime, then?”

Sebastian lifts his eyebrows, the smirk staying in place. “I am. And you’re still running... something.”

Blaine can feel how his smile threatens to falter, but he pushes through. “Still running my own team, yes,” he answers and steps aside so Sebastian can shake Kurt’s hand as well. It’s just the three of them in the conference room for now -– Blaine would much rather brief his own team himself than let Sebastian do it, and thankfully Sebastian himself doesn’t seem to want to spend any more time at the White Collar Division than is necessary.

“Kurt Hummel,” Kurt introduces himself, sounding perfectly friendly, but Blaine can hear the underlying dislike in his voice. “It’s nice to meet you, Agent Smythe.”

“Right.” Sebastian scoffs before he looks back to Blaine. “So you got yourself a government financed boy toy then, Anderson? Well done. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Kurt freezes, the corner of his mouth twitching and his eyes narrowing into a glare, and Blaine is honestly surprised that Sebastian doesn’t catch fire right there and then. He clears his throat, shooting a quick apologetic look to Kurt, and then furrowing his brows at Sebastian, placing his hands on his hips like he does every time he wants to remind people of his position as the leader of his team. He knows Sebastian is just trying to play them, trying to make it clear who the real boss is here, all of it only because he resents Blaine for something that happened years ago and has some issues with criminal informants. He’s trying to make the whole request of assistance sound like pity, even if Peterson had told Blaine that Organized Crime had practically begged the White Collar Division for help because they haven’t been making much progress on their own.

Their division -– and therefore Blaine and Kurt -– have the upper hand here, no matter what Sebastian thinks.

“He’s a CI, Smythe,” Blaine says, enunciating Kurt’s title carefully, “you know that just as well as I do. And he’s a brilliant one at that. If you want my help, you’re getting his help as well, whether you like it or not. You’re in my division now.”

Sebastian shrugs. “Only because my superiors said I should include you. I can solve my cases without getting help from former criminals.” He looks pointedly at Kurt.

“But you still came running to us for help when you couldn’t figure out a simple robbery case?” Kurt comments snidely, tilting his head. “And your superiors even encouraged it. How sad.”

“Ooh, the petty criminal has claws,” Sebastian retorts, lifting his hands in a mocking gesture.

“Stop,” Blaine snaps. He is used to the way Sebastian always tries to belittle everything and everyone, but this is still his office, his division, and he’s not going to listen to it, not after everything he and Kurt have already gone through and Sebastian knows nothing about.

Sebastian lowers his hands slowly, giving a somewhat placating shrug. Kurt is still bristling next to Blaine, glaring daggers at Sebastian, and Blaine knows Kurt could tear Sebastian a new one in seconds, but he stays quiet even though it’s clear he doesn’t want to.

Blaine takes a breath to calm down. “Alright. We’re going to have to work together on this case, emphasis on the word _together_ , so we can’t spend all of our time arguing. We’re going to focus on solving the case instead.” He gestures at the chairs around the conference room table. “So, Agent Smythe, why don’t you walk us through what your team has found out so far and then we can figure out how my team can be of assistance.”

After a moment Sebastian nods, resigned, and moves to sit down, seeming to begrudgingly acknowledge that Blaine is in charge here. The rest of the meeting goes much easier after that. Sebastian is a good agent, even if he acts the way he does, and it’s clear that he can see when it’s time to give up and focus on work. They go through the evidence Organized Crime has collected, discuss possible suspects and where the group of criminals might strike next if they stick to their pattern. Blaine can sense that Kurt is still annoyed, but he doesn’t let it show and offers his comments just like he would in any other meeting.

The crime spree started with small thefts, the culprits quickly moving to bigger and more valuable targets with every robbery. They have also been getting more and more violent with every crime -– two security guards are already dead because of them, and as Blaine listens to Sebastian list facts about the case he can’t help but feel the pattern seems familiar, like he has seen a case like this before, many years ago, perhaps even during his training. If it was just him and Kurt, he’d point it out, but with Sebastian here he doesn’t want to speculate when all he has is just a hunch.

“We don’t really know what their endgame is,” Sebastian explains, gesturing at the list of stolen goods in front of him on the conference room table. “It’s clear the targets are getting bigger, but we don’t know if it’s because the robbers are getting cocky or because they have some specific goal in mind. For the past few days we’ve been focusing on figuring out how they got into the bank they robbed earlier this week, but...”

Blaine looks up. “Do you have the blueprints of the bank?” he interrupts, remembering the robberies he and Kurt have successfully worked on before.

“Yeah, they’re right here.” Sebastian opens a new file, taking a few papers from it and spreading them over the table. “We think they used the maintenance corridor, but we haven’t found any evidence there.”

Blaine leans over the papers and then looks up at Kurt. “Kurt? What do you think?”

Kurt slides down from the window sill he’s been sitting on and pulls the blueprints closer. He purses his lips in thought. “I can see why you’d think they used the maintenance corridor, but... You said the crimes have been getting more violent, right?”

Blaine nods, following Kurt’s train of thought. “You think they used a more violent way to get in as well?”

“Not necessarily more violent,” Kurt says, putting the blueprint down on the table, and stabbing at it with his finger, “maybe just more forceful. See that? There’s a clear route from the cellar to the vault if you just get through that wall. It’s doesn’t even seem to be a bearing wall,” he observes. “That way they wouldn’t have had to enter the vault at all -– they could’ve just broken the wall, leaned in, and gotten what they came for. It’s a lot more effective than using the maintenance corridor.”

Sebastian scoffs. “I think we would’ve noticed a hole in the wall, Hummel.”

“Not if they covered it up,” Kurt points out, surprisingly calmly. “And if you look at the way they handled that art gallery job, it’s clear they have experience on covering things up. All you have to do is notice the patterns and figure out what fits.”

Blaine looks up from the blueprints at Kurt, probably grinning like an idiot. Seeing the way Kurt works things out is always fascinating, whether it’s about the case they’re working on or about the details on Kurt's sketches -– and it also always makes him wish he could pull Kurt in for a heated kiss because good god, his boyfriend is clever and amazing and _hot_ and he really wishes he could make everyone see it, let everyone know that he is Kurt’s and Kurt is his.

But obviously he can’t, so he settles on just smiling contentedly and pushing the blueprints over the table back to Sebastian.

Sebastian grumbles something unintelligible, and Kurt just grins back at him, satisfied and proud.

“So are we done for now?” he then asks, glancing at Blaine. “It’s getting late and I want to get home.”

To everyone else it probably sounds completely ordinary, just a CI asking his handler if they’re done for the day, but Blaine can see the way Kurt’s mouth twitches, can hear the underlying meaning -– _I want to get to your apartment and spend the rest of the night with you, away from this jerk of an agent_ –- and Blaine nods, giving him a small, private smile.

“Sure,” he says. “Agent Smythe and I can work out the practicalities, and then we can continue tomorrow.”

“Great.” Kurt straightens up and strides to the door of the conference room before he stops with his hand on the door handle. He turns around to look at Sebastian, his eyes suddenly narrowed. “Oh, by the way, while we’re talking about things that fit –- it’s no use putting that much money in a suit that doesn’t even fit you. You should really have a word with your tailor.” He tilts his head, looking Sebastian up and down much the same way Sebastian looked at them earlier. “That’s all. I’ll see you agents later!”

With that he opens the door and steps out, humming to himself.

Sebastian stares after him for a moment before he turns to look at Blaine, incredulous. “Did he just-–”

Blaine shrugs, trying to hide his smile and act professional. “To be fair, you did insult him first.” He pushes himself away from the table, starting to collect his files. Suddenly he can’t wait to get home either. “And I don’t know about Organized Crime, but in the white collar world we take fashion very seriously.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monster chapter with about 8,900 words! And it's basically about the case! I know, I'm weird -- but you'll understand why I had to write about it when you get to the end of this chapter.
> 
> Warnings for a bit of violence, suspense and guns, but it's nothing graphic. Also, please remember that I am in no way an expert on crimes and the FBI. At all.

“I can hear you thinking,” Kurt murmurs sleepily against Blaine’s collarbone and shifts closer to him on the bed. “It’s two in the morning, why are you thinking?”

Blaine startles, coming back to reality with a soft inhale. He moves his gaze from the shadows on the ceiling to Kurt, barely making out the outline of his body in the dim lighting of Blaine’s bedroom. The apartment is quiet and dark around them, just the distant hum of the city making its way through the window. Blaine knows he should feel content and comfortable with the warm covers pulled up to his chest, with Perry snoring on the floor in a familiar way and Kurt’s body resting against his own -– even the tracking anklet nudging his calf doesn’t make him feel anxious anymore -– but he just can’t get his mind to shut down.

“Sorry,” he says, petting Kurt’s head. He rubs the back of his hand over his eyes, sighing. “It’s the case. I can’t stop thinking about it. But I’ll just go to the kitchen to get something to drink, you go back to sleep,” he adds, already moving to sit up.

“No, I’m awake, I’m awake,” Kurt mumbles. Blaine can see him blinking his eyes open and straightening up before he reaches for the bedside table and switches on the reading lamp Blaine keeps there for the nights he can’t fall asleep immediately and has to read one of his old mystery novels to tire his mind. The small lamp gives the bedroom a yellowish glow, making the shadows in the corners of the room look softer, and Kurt turns to look at him. “What about the case?”

Blaine scrunches his nose in thought, shrugging. “It’s nothing, really. I mean, Agent Smythe said we should just focus on figuring out the details of the more white collar crimes while Organized Crime handles the bigger picture, but...”

“But you can’t help but focus on the bigger picture as well,” Kurt finishes, smiling when he sits up. “So tell me. Let’s talk through the case like we always do.”

Blaine lifts his eyebrow. “It’s two a.m.,” he points out.

“You’re not obviously going to sleep anytime soon, and I can’t sleep with you thinking so loudly right next to me. So spill.” Kurt reaches out to rub Blaine’s shoulder with a condescending pout. “Come on now, you know you want to...”

Blaine lets out a soft laugh, shoving Kurt’s hand away. Perry makes a noise on the floor next to the bed, but when Blaine glances her way, she just shifts her legs in her sleep and goes back to snoring. He turns back to look at Kurt, who is staring at him with an expectant expression, not looking so sleepy anymore, and Blaine sighs again, running his hand through his hair.

“It’s just...” He frowns down at his lap. “I have this hunch about the case, but Smythe made it quite clear what he thinks about our input in the meeting today.”

They’ve been working on the case for a few days now, and they had their first collective meeting with the Organized Crime team earlier today. Well, yesterday, since it’s already two in the morning. They were supposed to compare results and what they’d found out so far, and Blaine had been excited about it, excited about the ideas and clues he and his team had come up with –- but then the meeting had only consisted of Organized Crime listing all the things Blaine’s team shouldn’t worry about, all the things that didn’t concern them and should be left to the Organized Crime Division. The meeting was over a lot faster than Blaine or anyone else from his team had anticipated, and it left a very sour taste in his mouth.

They’re trying to solve a big case, a complicated case that could turn out to be something huge if Blaine’s hunch is even remotely correct, but Smythe and his fellow agents refuse to cooperate because of... What? Some age-old grudge against Blaine? Some stupid competition between the two divisions? It would seem almost ridiculous if Blaine hadn’t attended that meeting earlier today and seen for himself what’s going on.

Kurt hums, twitching his nose in distaste. “Smythe’s a jerk. And his face reminds me of a meerkat.”

Blaine snorts, leaning back against the pillows. “Kurt…!” he laughs.

“What, it’s true! I’m not taking it back, okay?” Kurt’s grin softens after a moment, and he nudges Blaine’s shoulder with his own. “Come on. Tell me about this hunch.”

Blaine sighs, caving in under Kurt’s stare. “The case just... It reminds me of this unsolved case I studied at Quantico, you know? The same case popped up again about five years ago when another team in our division was working on it. I was closing in on you, so I didn’t get the chance to help with the case back then,” he adds with a wry smile, and Kurt grins back at him sheepishly. “Anyway, the basic idea is that the criminal resurfaces in New York every five years,” Blaine continues, looking up at the ceiling as he lists everything he knows, “collects a crew of local crooks, robs several places, moving to bigger and more expensive targets every time -– and then they hit one last big mark and disappear again for the next five years.”

“Five years?” Kurt repeats, but then his eyes widen as his mind connects the dots. “They’re waiting for the statute of limitations to close up.”

Blaine nods. The details of the cold case have been running through his mind ever since he made the connection to their current case, and it feels relieving to finally share them with someone, especially when that someone is Kurt. “That’s the theory. We actually studied the case as an example of the statute of limitations at Quantico.” He runs his fingers through his curls. “The Bureau has caught some of the crew members during the years, but never the person behind the whole scheme, even though we have a pretty solid idea of who they are.” He laughs, moving his hand to the back of his neck. “The person suspected is actually one of FBI’s most wanted, so...”

“Langdon Davies, right?”

Blaine freezes, his eyes snapping to Kurt. “What?”

“It’s Langdon Davies,” Kurt repeats, looking back at Blaine, his gaze steady. “The one the FBI thinks is behind the whole scheme. Right?”

“How...” Blaine blinks his eyes, confused. “How do you know him? Or know of him?”

Kurt bites his lip, suddenly looking nervous. “You really should’ve gotten the chance to help with that case five years ago.”

It takes a moment, but when Blaine figures out what Kurt is saying he can feel something cold and uncomfortable settle in his stomach.

“Please tell me you didn’t work with him back then,” he whispers. He can’t see Kurt working with anyone like Davies, he just can’t, but he knows how far gone Kurt was at some point of his criminal career, and he has to make sure. Langdon Davies is ruthless -– he doesn’t care for anyone or anything as long as he gets what he came for, and orders his crew to kill security guards and innocent bystanders without mercy if they get in the way. The thought of Kurt working with someone like him, Kurt who hates guns and violence and always made sure not to hurt anyone, the epitome of the gentleman thief-–

“Oh god, no! _No_ , Blaine, I never-–” Kurt’s eyes widen and he shakes his head violently, reaching for Blaine’s hand. “I swear, I’ve never, _ever_ , worked with him! He did approach me five years ago, probably wanted me to be a part of his crew back then, but I knew what he was like and what he did, and I wanted to have nothing to do with it. _Nothing_ ,” he stresses. “God, that man is so disgusting that I wish he’d gotten caught the first time he came to New York.”

Blaine lets out a breath, tangling his fingers with Kurt’s. “Okay,” he says, the cold inside him dissipating instantly. “I know you’d never work with someone like him, but the way you said it just...” He shakes his head. “Sorry. That was...”

“It’s okay.” Kurt squeezes his hand, his eyes still fervent and a little desperate. “I should’ve probably thought more about my words. It’s just that he did approach me, so his case was kind of connected to mine and if you had consulted on his case, even if it would’ve been because of me, you would’ve surely caught him already and-- I was just trying to be witty, basically.” He rolls his eyes in a self-deprecating way. “Clearly that didn’t work.”

“No, it’s okay,” Blaine repeats, leaning in to press a quick kiss on the corner of Kurt’s mouth. “I’m sorry for making it sound like I doubted you. You have to know I’d never-–”

“I know, Blaine,” Kurt says, smiling as he lifts his hand to stroke Blaine’s cheek and then pulls him in for another deeper kiss.

Blaine lets himself get lost in it for a moment, in the breath-taking thrill he always gets when he kisses Kurt, his body bent awkwardly over the bed as he closes his eyes and slides their lips together. He breathes in the scent of Kurt’s skin, soft and sleepy and familiar with the added undertone of some skin-care product, almost ready to just give in and surrender to the feeling completely, his fingers twitching weakly against Kurt’s. But the case keeps nagging at him until he has to break the kiss, blink his eyes open and lean away from Kurt.

“I can’t believe he even asked you to work with him,” he says in an incredulous voice, looking up into Kurt’s eyes. “Your whole M.O. was completely different from his.”

Kurt sighs. “He needed an art thief, and I was the best in New York at that time. He just didn’t know that even if I was a con-man, I still had principles.” He tugs at Blaine’s hand. “But the good thing is that I obviously did some research on him back then, and I can tell you that he does have a specific goal in mind every time he resurfaces.”

Blaine straightens his back. “I’m listening.”

“You said that the crew always hits one big mark right before they disappear?” Kurt continues, shifting into a better position on the bed. “Well, that last mark is always Davies’s initial target. He uses the first robberies as some sort of a training for his current crew so he can get rid of the ones who don’t perform as well as they should and make sure he has everything he needs for the big target.”

“Wait, hold on,” Blaine interrupts, lifting his hand and rephrasing Kurt’s words in his head. “So what you’re saying is that the last big score is always the target they’re actually aiming for? It’s not just something they hit because they’ve gotten bolder and more cocky?” He pauses, connecting the dots. “That means... That means the crew isn’t necessarily as prepared during the first robberies.”

Kurt nods. “Exactly. And if we want to catch them, it would be easier to do that _before_ the last target. I mean, of course we couldn’t charge them for the biggest robbery then, but...”

“No, we could.” Blaine jumps out of bed, pushing the covers out of the way. He snatches the case files he brought home from his dresser and sits back down on the bed, opening one of the files. “Davies is not only ruthless, he’s a bit of a stickler for details as well. If we caught him and his crew before the last target, we could obviously charge the crew for the robberies they’ve done this time around, but we could also charge Davies for the latest big target he hit five years ago.”

He finds what he’s looking for and pushes the file over to Kurt, pointing at the paper it’s open on. Kurt picks up the file, scanning the page with a squint in the reading lamp’s low light, before he lets out a small gasp.

“He... He always hits the last target on the day when the statute of limitations for his previous crime spree is up,” he whispers in astonishment. “That _is_ detailed.”

Blaine nods, feeling the familiar rush of excitement he gets every time a case starts making sense. “That’s why we studied it at Quantico. If we catch him after the last score, we can only charge him with the crimes he’s committed this time around. But if we catch him before that, we can prevent him from hitting that last big score, charge him for the smaller robberies and for the big target he hit five years ago -– and we could make it apparent that he was connected to the whole crime spree five years ago and the jury would have to take that into consideration.”

Kurt looks up from the file. “Blaine,” he breathes out. “The case we’re working on right now -– it has to be him. It has to be Davies. Everything we know points to him. How on earth isn’t the Organized Crime all over this already?”

It’s a like a bucketful of cold water, of reality, and Blaine sighs, the excitement inside of him suddenly dimming. “They’re too focused on the mob and gang connections.” He takes the file back from Kurt, putting it and the rest of them on his bedside table with a shrug. “I tried to talk to Smythe about Davies after the meeting today, but he wouldn’t listen. He said I’m making this case into something it’s not.”

Kurt groans and lies down on the bed. “Like I said -– a jerk.”

“I really want to catch this guy, Kurt.” Blaine runs his fingers through his hair again, not even thinking about how difficult it’ll be to gel them come morning. Right, morning. They should probably try to get some sleep soon, but Blaine’s mind still refuses to quiet down. “He needs to be put away for a long time, and if we don’t catch him now, he’s going to disappear for another five years and gets the chance to hurt even more people, and I can’t...” He lets out a frustrated noise, throwing himself onto the bed next to Kurt and burying his face in Kurt’s chest.

Kurt hums in agreement, his fingers starting to play with Blaine’s curls absent-mindedly. “We should catch him then.”

“We’re just assisting,” Blaine mumbles, barely lifting his head. Kurt’s touch feels nice against his scalp. “Organized Crime is calling all the shots, and they’re not listening to us. Most likely because Smythe hates me.”

“But they’re wrong,” Kurt says, “and they’re chasing all the wrong leads and focusing on all the wrong things. And Smythe did tell us to focus on our side of the things, so we could...” He trails off, the rest of the sentence hanging in the air between them.

Blaine lifts his head, narrowing his eyes. “Kurt Hummel. Are you suggesting that we look into Langdon Davies on our own?”

“Maybe?” Kurt ventures, smiling innocently.

“I was hoping you were,” Blaine replies with a grin and strains his neck so he can kiss Kurt again. “God, I love you so much.”

 

\---

 

They spend the next day gathering more intel, studying Davies’s previous crimes and trying to figure out where he might strike next. Blaine feels a little bad about working on it behind Organized Crime’s back, his inner rule follower lifting its head and protesting loudly, but he tries to tell himself that it’s only fair after Organized Crime asked for his team’s help and then refused to acknowledge it. He still tells most of his team to continue working on the approved assignments, only letting Sam and Tina help him and Kurt with their own line of inquiry, just in case. He trusts his team -– it would be weird if he didn’t, after everything they’ve done for him and Kurt -– but he doesn’t want to risk the careers of his teammates by including all of them. They are sort of acting against the orders here, after all, and sometimes inner-FBI politics work in a weird way.

It’s almost too easy to find a pattern in Davies’s earlier crimes with Kurt there to help them, and they can successfully narrow down the list of possible targets to a few high-end galleries in the same area. One of the galleries is holding an exhibit on rare stones -– expensive jewels and diamonds from different countries, all on display in a small independently owned gallery that doesn’t get a lot of visitors during this time of the year but still gets by -– and everything about it fits the pattern.

Blaine books a meeting with the manager for the next day, off-hours so they can go through the gallery’s security without any interruptions. He takes Kurt with him, but not anyone else because he doesn’t think there’s any need to drag Sam and Tina away from their own work and he still hasn’t let Organized Crime know about their lead. He did try, but Sebastian shot him down again, and Blaine can take the hint when it’s practically spit against his face.

Thankfully the gallery manager seems to take the threat seriously and immediately lets Blaine and Kurt see the security cameras, shows them the floor plan of the building and explains the alarm system they use. The gallery itself isn’t that big, just an open space on the ground floor of a five-storey building, but the company also owns a few staff and maintenance rooms, a storage room that can’t be opened from the inside behind the gallery itself and a few office spaces on the upper floors. Blaine can see Kurt’s eyes flicking around the building as they walk through it, cataloguing everything and anything as always. The security isn’t understandably that impressive -– the gallery is quite small, after all -– but Blaine is sure they can make it work in their favor.

Except they don’t get the chance to even make a plan for that.

He and Kurt are just finishing up their interview with the few employees still left in the back room of the gallery when they hear shouting and loud noises from the lobby. Blaine stops in the middle of a sentence, turning to look at Kurt in confusion, and then he hears something else over the muffled voices, ringing out through the whole building.

A gunshot.

For a brief moment Blaine feels the sense of cold, almost tangible dread fill his body, but then his training kicks in and he whips around. The security camera footage is playing on the screens on the other side of the room, and he quickly finds the one that shows the gallery’s lobby. There’s a group of armed people moving through the hall -– seven people, Blaine counts; exactly the number of Davies’s current crew, and _shit_ , it seems they were a bit too right with this hunch –- and he can make out the slumped form of the security guard by the shut and most likely locked doors.

The cold feeling of dread is back. Blaine had exchanged a few words with guard just fifteen minutes ago, and he really, _really_ hopes the kind older man isn’t dead.

The robbers are clearly moving towards the back room they’re in, checking every space for people, and Blaine curses, turning around to face the already panicked faces of the gallery employees.

“Panic button,” he says in a low voice, “does your gallery have a panic button?”

One of the employees, a young woman who looks like she’s about to go into shock, nods shakily.

“Where is it?” Blaine whispers fervently, glancing at Kurt whose eyes are moving around the room as if he’s already planning how they can get out of this situation.

“In... In the lobby, behind the front desk,” the woman stutters.

Blaine curses again, looking back at the security footage. Seven robbers, all armed and so close to the back room that Blaine can almost hear their footsteps echoing around the open space of the gallery. There are three employees plus the manager in the back room with him and Kurt, and he’s the only one who has a gun. The odds are not that great, and Blaine needs more time.

He grabs his gun and badge and throws them in the waste paper basket in the corner of the room, hastily covering them with a few pieces of trash.

“What are you doing?” Kurt hisses, reaching for his arm.

“If they find out I’m with the FBI or that I have a gun, we have even less of a chance to get out of here than we do now,” Blaine whispers back before turning to the employees, speaking quickly. “Alright, everyone -– I want you to stay as calm as you can. Follow my lead, and my partner and I will do our best to get us out of this situation, okay? The robbers are dangerous, as I’ve already told you, but if we stay calm, we have a better chance of making it.” He tries to sound as reassuring and trustworthy as he can without minimizing the danger they’re in, but right as he finishes the footsteps stop outside the back room door and he can see the employees freezing in fear.

“I thought there might be other people here besides the guard,” a voice says.

Blaine turns around, coming face to face with Langdon Davies. He must be bolder than Blaine thought, committing a robbery with no mask on -– but then again, he is holding quite an impressive gun in his hands, pointed right at Blaine’s chest. There are three other robbers standing behind him, their guns ready and trained inside the room as well. Blaine swallows, practically feeling how Kurt tenses next to him, and for a moment the only thought that runs through his head is _please don’t let him recognize Kurt_.

Davies looks around, leveling his gun at every person in the room for a moment before moving on. Blaine tries not to breathe out in relief when his gaze doesn’t linger on Kurt.

“Yes, people, this is a robbery,” Davies says with an almost bored expression. He doesn’t have to use words to intimidate anyone; the gun and the rest of the robbers do the trick just fine. “And if you cooperate, I might have mercy on you and you get to keep your lives. Are all of you members of the staff?”

“Yes,” Blaine says immediately, raising his hands and swallowing in an act of nervousness that isn’t really an act at all. He purposefully lifts his hands high enough that his jacket hangs open and shows that there are no weapons hidden underneath it. His side feels empty without the comforting weight of his gun, but at least it seems like he bought them some more time. The gallery workers seem to have unconsciously shifted to stand behind him and Kurt, and he hopes Davies doesn’t pay any more attention to it.

Blaine really didn’t expect this day to turn into a hostage situation when he left for work this morning.

“Excellent.” Davies gestures for the man closest to him. “My associate here will first collect your phones, and then we’ll see what we should do with you.”

The man moves forward, stopping to stand in front of them, and slowly they all surrender their phones. Blaine had been hoping they wouldn’t realize to ask for them, but obviously Davies has done robberies like this before and knows what he’s doing. After the man has all of their phones, another man checks them for weapons, and Blaine consciously keeps his eyes away from the wastepaper basket in the corner.

When they’re pronounced clear, Davies and a few of his crew members force them at gunpoint down the short hall to the storage room at the back of the building. Blaine looks around as much as he can without raising any suspicions on the way there, and he sees Kurt do the same next to him, the line of his shoulders tight and tense, both of them trying to figure out possible escape plans.

When their eyes meet for a moment, both of them giving each other a small comforting smile, Blaine suddenly wishes he was back at his apartment or at Kurt’s loft, lying in bed with Kurt’s body wrapped around his, feeling safe and loved and not like fear and anxiety and adrenaline are running through his whole body in a horrible mess, turning his blood cold and making his fingers twitch with nervousness. He’s the one who dragged Kurt here, he’s the one who kept these innocent people here after their work day, and god, he needs to focus, he needs to figure out how to get Kurt and everyone else out of this situation as safely as possible, how to get some back-up and how to-–

“There,” Davies’s voice interrupts his thoughts. They’ve reached the storage room -– it’s just a small space with no windows, a few shelves lining the walls and heavy-looking boxes placed on the floor. “Now, you’re going to stay here,” Davies continues, gesturing at the room with his gun, “while we take care of our business. Enjoy.”

He steps back and pushes the heavy door closed with the same bored expression on his face. The door lets out a loud thud as it closes, the sound echoing through the space in a way that makes a few of the employees wince; and then they can hear the lock clicking and footsteps walking away from the door. Blaine immediately moves closer and presses his ear against the door, listening carefully before he tries the handle. It doesn’t budge.

“Of course they know to put us in the only room in the whole building that can’t be opened from the inside,” Kurt mutters, moving to stand closer to Blaine and glancing at the gallery workers huddled together in the other side of the room over his shoulder. “What on earth do we do now?”

Blaine runs his fingers through his hair, looking around the room, briefly making eye contact with the manager of the gallery who looks like he’s about to throw up. “We need some way to get in touch with the Bureau and call for back-up. We’re no use against Davies and his crew on our own.”

“B-but how? They took our phones!” the manager cries unexpectedly, grabbing the arm of the employee standing next to him, the rest of the workers startling at the sudden loud voice.

“Look, I promise we’ll do our best get you out of here, but you need to calm down,” Blaine says in the soft and soothing voice he always uses with witnesses and victims when they start to panic. He deliberately slows his body language as well, trying to get some sense of calm into the otherwise terrifying situation. “I know the situation is bad, but we’re safe now in this room,” he continues, “and we just need to get in contact with my team and get them to send a SWAT team here as soon as possible. Then we can get out and arrest those criminals. But in order for that to happen we all need to _calm down_ ,” he stresses. “Getting into a panic won’t help right now.”

The manager nods shakily, visibly trying to get a hold of his emotions. Blaine hates this part of his job, hates seeing people so terrified and not being able to help them as much as he wants to. Sometimes he really wishes FBI agents could have super powers as well.

“Where’s the nearest phone in this building? You must have some sort of a landline,” Kurt says abruptly.

The manager swallows, taking a deep breath before he answers. “M-my office. It’s the room closest to the gallery in the corridor. We passed it by earlier when I was giving you the tour.”

Kurt bites his lip in consideration, looking around the room. Blaine stays silent, just watching him -– he can kick down a door as well as the next agent, but out of the two of them Kurt is obviously the one who has more experience about getting out of tight spots and locked rooms with heavy doors, and he clearly seems to have some sort of an idea.

“No windows,” Kurt mutters to himself, walking a few steps around the small space, his arms crossed over his chest, “and the door’s locked. I could pick the lock-–”

“They must have left a guard outside,” Blaine interrupts.

Kurt nods. “True.” He glances at the ventilation shaft on the other side of the room. “Too risky, not to mention that the air vents in this building are way too small... I can’t find any other exits, Blaine. I’m afraid there really is no other way in or out of this room than that door.”

Blaine groans, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

“The route from this room to the manager’s office is not that long,” Kurt argues. “I could stay out of sight, make my way to the office and call the FBI from the landline.”

“Did you not hear me? There could be an armed guard right outside that door,” Blaine says, gesturing at the door. “It’s too dangerous, Kurt.”

“Blaine, everything we do for the FBI is dangerous,” Kurt counters in a low voice, taking a step closer to him, giving them as much privacy as possible in the small room. “We have to move fast or they’ll get away, you and I both know that. I can distract the possible guard somehow –- I mean, they are trying to get priceless stones out of their protective casings in the gallery, that’s bound to cause some noise, and I could use that-–”

Blaine sighs, looking at the employees huddled together in one corner of the room. This is their chance to get these people out of here safely, their chance to catch Langdon Davies, and even if the idea of Kurt –- of anyone but especially of Kurt –- going out there makes Blaine’s heart beat faster in anxiety, he knows this is the only way. Or well, not the only one. The other choice is to wait here in this room doing nothing while Davies gets away.

“Not you,” he finally says to Kurt, looking him straight in the eye. “Us. If you’re going out there, I’m coming with you. I’m not... I’m not letting you go there on your own, not under any circumstances.”

Kurt’s eyes widen and he looks like he’s about to argue, but then he must see something in Blaine’s eyes, stopping and sighing in defeat. “Fine,” he mutters. “We... We do work better when we’re together,” he adds quietly.

Blaine can hear everything behind those words, every ounce of fear and determination and Kurt and _them_ , and he gives a small smile in reply.

He turns to face one of the employees, the one who looks the least freaked out. “Can you make sure that you all stay here?” he asks. “No matter what happens, no matter what you hear, just stay here and keep quiet and don’t get out unless me or someone else from the FBI comes in and tells you that everything’s clear. Alright?”

The employee nods, and Blaine nods back in gratitude. The last thing they need is the civilians wandering out on their own and trying to be a hero.

Kurt is pulling out his lock-picks from one of the hidden pockets he always has in his jackets when Blaine turns back to him. He looks calmer now, Blaine notices, now that he has something to do and something to get done and isn’t just standing still, waiting for things to happen. Kurt crouches in front of the door, inserting the picks into the lock and starting to work on it even more carefully and quietly than he usually does, stopping to listen every time the lock gives a tiny click. Blaine glances around the storage room one last time, hoping to find anything that could be used as a weapon, but the shelves just have rolled-up posters and small piles of promotional leaflets on them, and they don’t have enough time to start going through the heavy-looking boxes. There isn’t really a way for him to get his gun back –- the back room where he stashed it is in the opposite direction of the office he and Kurt need to reach and also closer to the gallery itself where the robbers are with their own guns. Going back for a gun would be too risky.

After a few moments the lock gives one last click, loud in the sudden silence, and Kurt straightens up, sliding the lock-picks into his pockets. He glances at Blaine, mouthing _ready?_ and Blaine nods, squaring his shoulders and grabbing the door handle. He slowly eases it down and pushes the door open little by little until he has enough space to peer out of the room into the corridor.

It’s empty.

No guard, no one with a gun waiting for them, nothing. Blaine blinks and leans out of the doorway, looking both ways just to make sure, but the corridor stays empty. He can hear voices coming from the gallery, muffled words and loud bangs when the robbers try to get the display cases open. There’s a cigarette butt on the floor near the door that Blaine doesn’t remember seeing before, probably left by one of the people in Davies’s crew, and perhaps he and Kurt were right the other night when they were discussing the case -– perhaps the crew isn’t that prepared yet, perhaps they are going to make stupid mistakes before Davies straightens them out for the last score. Whatever it is, Blaine’s not going to look the gift horse in the mouth. The FBI loves criminals who make amateur mistakes.

He gestures for Kurt to follow him and quietly slinks through the doorway, keeping an eye out for anyone that might notice them. Kurt gives the employees one last gesture signaling them to wait there and then pushes the door back closed almost all the way, stopping right before the door would make a loud noise against frame.

One of the robbers laughs in the gallery, and they both freeze for a moment until Kurt shifts nervously on his feet and starts creeping down the hallway towards the office rooms as quietly and quickly as possible. Blaine follows him, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds, his hand unconsciously reaching out for the gun that isn’t there and his heart beating against his chest. God, if they get out of this alive and well, he’s going to take the next day off and just hold Kurt for twenty-four hours, breathe him in and forget everything about unsolved cases and FBI’s most wanted robbers. He already wants to forget everything about it, but the voices coming from the gallery and the faces of the terrified employees that he can still see in his mind are kind of a constant reminder.

Somehow they manage to make it through the hallway to the offices without being noticed, and Kurt stops in front of the right door, trying the door handle. It’s locked, and he pulls out his lock-picks again, making quick work of the lock while Blaine keeps a lookout. Kurt gets the door open, and they sneak inside, closing the door behind them and leaning against it immediately, both letting out a breath of relief.

“God, my heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of my chest,” Kurt whispers, pressing a hand against his rib cage.

Blaine takes his other hand and gives it a squeeze, trying to ignore the way his own hands are trembling. It’s been a while since the last time he was in a situation as tight as this one –- the White Collar Division doesn’t get hostage situations that often, thankfully -– and back then he didn’t have to worry about Kurt’s life on top of his own, didn’t have anyone he needed to touch just to make sure they’re still there.

“I was so sure one of the robbers was going to walk into that corridor any moment,” he says in a low voice, squeezing Kurt’s hand again and feeling the way Kurt squeezes back. “Where’s the phone?”

Kurt points at the desk in front of them. “There. I’m assuming you have the number memorized?”

“First rule of the FBI,” Blaine quips back, still feeling a little breathless. He reluctantly lets go of Kurt’s hand and crosses the room, picking up the receiver with a shaky hand and dialing the number. The FBI has specific protocols for situations like this, to make things run as smoothly as possible, and the call isn’t that long -– just a request for immediate back-up in the gallery’s address because of an on-going hostage situation and robbery -– but to his surprise he finds out that Sam is already on his way with a SWAT team. Apparently someone outside the gallery saw the robbers enter the building and called the police, and since Sam and Tina knew where Blaine and Kurt were going, it was easy for them to put two and two together.

Thank goodness for observant bystanders.

“The back-up is five minutes away, maybe eight. Sam’s with them,” Blaine says as he puts down the receiver after ending the call, still keeping his voice low just in case.

Kurt only gives a hum in return. He’s standing in front of a small locked cabinet hanging from the wall, something that looks almost like a fuse box, and Blaine moves closer, inspecting the cabinet with Kurt. It seems to be locked and has no identifying features, but Blaine remembers from the floor plan they had studied earlier that the manager’s office was supposed to have a control panel for the security system.

“What are you thinking?” he whispers.

Kurt lifts his lock-picks again and starts working on the cabinet’s lock. “I’m thinking the SWAT team could probably use an advantage, and perhaps whatever’s inside this cabinet can help us change things a little.” He pokes his tongue out of his mouth as he works, the corner of his lips twitching in a small grin. “And I’m also thinking that I’ve picked a lot of locks today.”

Blaine lets out a breathless laugh. He can see droplets of nervous sweat on Kurt’s forehead, and his own hands still feel clammy and unsteady, but somehow he still manages to let out a laugh -– because at least Kurt is here. At least Blaine doesn’t have to wonder how Kurt is doing because he can see it for himself.

“What do you mean, ‘change things a little’?” he asks, just as Kurt gets the lock open.

Kurt pockets his lock-picks and pulls the cabinet door open, revealing several switches and controls. Some of them have the light on next to them, some of them don’t, and Kurt’s fingers hover over them in consideration. “I mean a distraction. Lights out, doors open and alarm on, exactly on the right moment.”

“To confuse the robbers and give SWAT an advantage. That’s brilliant,” Blaine breathes out, grabbing Kurt’s shoulder and leaning in to give his cheek a quick, messy kiss. No one can see them, they are in the middle of a hostage situation and Blaine is still riding a little high on adrenaline, so why shouldn’t he kiss his amazing boyfriend who’s helping the FBI catch one of its most wanted?

Kurt blushes and ducks his head to hide his grin. “I may have done something like this before, to my own advantage,” he admits, stroking his fingertips over the spot on his cheek that Blaine’s lips were just touching. “If we can tell about it to the SWAT team, they could make the most of it. Can you call the FBI back and get them to connect you to Sam’s headset?”

“I can,” Blaine says, picking up the phone again.

Kurt studies the control panel, making sure he has the right switches, while Blaine explains the plan to Sam. They have to wait for the agents and the SWAT team to get into position, but eventually, five or so minutes later, Sam gives Blaine the signal that they’re ready and Blaine nods at Kurt. Kurt flexes his fingers over the controls and then flicks them all down at once.

The lights immediately go out, covering the building in sudden darkness, and at the same time the shrill sound of the alarm pierces through the silence. The only light in the manager’s office is coming from the window, and Blaine blinks his eyes to get used to the dim lighting. He can hear noises coming from the gallery, yelling and footsteps and bangs, some of them echoing from the receiver in his hand as well. Sam is yelling orders, and then suddenly he calls out Blaine’s name through the cacophony.

“Blaine! Blaine, turn the lights back on! We have a runner!”

“The lights!” Blaine yells, but Kurt has already flicked the switches back to their original position. The alarm quiets, the lights flicker back on, and then Blaine can hear running footsteps coming closer to the office they’re in. It sounds like it’s just one pair of footsteps, and at the same moment he realizes that, he remembers that there’s an alternative way out of the building at the end of the corridor.

A perfect way for one of Davies’s crew members to escape.

Blaine rushes across the room, but Kurt is faster and closer, pulling the door open and immediately ramming into the man who’s running past the office. Kurt stumbles but stays standing, whereas the man tumbles down in surprise, a handgun flying from his hands and clattering against the floor. Blaine has just enough time to recognize him as one of the robbers when the man is already pushing himself back up again, snarling and reaching for Kurt in anger. And that’s-– _no_.

Blaine pulls his hand back and punches the man right across the jaw.

The man’s eyes roll to the back of his head and he stumbles backwards before falling down again with a thump. Before he gets the chance to recover, Blaine is already on him, pushing him against the floor with a knee and locking his hands behind his back.

Kurt kicks the gun further away, and then for a moment everything is quiet, just the man grunting underneath Blaine and all three of them breathing heavily, until Kurt looks at Blaine, looking a bit incredulous.

“I can see now why you go boxing twice a week,” he blurts out.

Blaine laughs and shakes his head, pushing the man down a little more forcefully.

 

\---

 

They catch Davies and his whole crew, and free all the hostages. Blaine can’t almost believe it, but as he watches the robbers being escorted to police cars outside the gallery, he knows they actually did it and he can’t help but smile. They caught one of FBI’s most wanted with only two people getting hurt –- the security guard has a concussion but he should be fine, and then there’s of course the robber Blaine punched –- and if that isn’t a reason to smile, he doesn’t know what is.

Blaine looks around the scene, moving his gaze from Davies’s scowling face to the paramedics who are helping the shocked gallery workers, to Tina discussing something with one of the SWAT members, and finally to Kurt, who is leaning against Blaine’s car, his head tilted back and his eyes closed as he just breathes in the fresh air, and Blaine can feel his smile widening.

“Blaine!” Sam calls out, jogging up to him and clapping him on the shoulder with a grin. “That was pretty damn awesome, dude!”

Blaine laughs and flexes the hand that’s still stinging a little from the punch. “Thanks. It was all Kurt’s idea, so you should tell that to him.”

“I will.” Sam squeezes Blaine’s shoulder once before letting go. “You two should head home. I can handle the aftermath.”

Blaine turns to look at him, ignoring the flutter in his heart at the combination of ‘you two’ and ‘home’ and placing his hands on his hips. “But this is my--” he starts.

“Do you want to face Smythe today?” Sam interrupts. “’Cause he’s on his way and I’m guessing he’s gonna hate you even more now that you were right about Davies while he was chasing mobsters.”

Blaine opens his mouth and then closes it, his hands falling back down.

“That’s what I thought,” Sam says, pushing Blaine towards Kurt and winking. “Come on, go home with Kurt and get some rest. The paperwork will still be there tomorrow.”

“I’m your boss, so shouldn’t I be the one calling the shots?” Blaine points out, giving Sam’s shoulder a small shove.

“Not when you look like you’re about to keel over, man.” Sam shoves him back.

Blaine puffs out his cheeks and shakes his head. “Alright, alright, fine. Call me if something comes up, though?” he adds over his shoulder as he starts walking towards his car.

“Will do,” Sam calls out after him. “Now go before Smythe gets here!”

Blaine gives out a laugh and turns his back on Sam. Kurt is still leaning against the car, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed, the evening breeze ruffling his hair when Blaine makes his way over to him. Blaine can feel his smile softening as he looks at Kurt, and he gently reaches out his hand to touch Kurt’s shoulder, trying not to startle him.

Kurt blinks his eyes open, his lips turning into a smile when he sees Blaine. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Blaine says back. “Sam said he can handle this, so we can go home.”

“Finally.” Kurt pushes himself off the car and stretches his shoulders. “Can we... Can we go to your place?” he asks, his eyes flitting to his anklet for a quick second.

“Of course,” Blaine says instantly. “I don’t think anyone’s going to check your tracking data after what you did today,” he adds, still in awe of everything Kurt did to get them out of the gallery.

Kurt’s smiles turns a little embarrassed, his eyes shining in the low sunlight. “Thanks.” He scuffs his shoe against the pavement. “I just want to go somewhere I feel safe after that whole...” He gestures towards the gallery with his hand, shrugging.

Blaine blinks. “You don’t feel safe in your own-–?”

“I do,” Kurt rushes to say, “I do, but just... not in the same way. There’s always the chance of Santana or Rachel barging in, and as much as I love them I really don’t want to deal with them right now. I just want to go home. With you,” he adds.

Blaine sucks in a breath. He takes a step closer and then pulls Kurt into his arms without a moment’s hesitation, feeling the way Kurt’s body immediately relaxes against his. Kurt exhales shakily in relief against Blaine’s shoulder, lifting his own arms and squeezing Blaine closer. They just survived a hostage situation, and to anyone who doesn’t know the truth the hug probably just looks like a regular embrace between two colleagues after a difficult situation -– but when no one’s watching Blaine discreetly ducks his head and presses a small kiss under Kurt’s ear, breathing him in and letting his own heartbeat finally slow down to normal.

He can already see himself spending the rest of the day in bed or on the couch, his arms circled around Kurt’s waist, lazily kissing him every now and then while some mindless reality television show plays on in the background, Kurt humming a tune under his breath as his fingers scratch Blaine’s scalp; both of them just making sure the other one is still here, safe and sound and not going anywhere.

 _Home_.

“Okay,” Blaine says in a low voice. “Let’s go home.”

 

\---

 

The next day, after Agent Smythe has begrudgingly thanked Blaine and sulked out of his office (Blaine doesn’t even want to know what sort of repercussions Sebastian’s going to face after this one), Peterson knocks on his door and peeks his head in.

“You got a minute, Anderson?”

“Sure.” Blaine straightens in his chair, pushing his paperwork to the side and flashing his boss a smile. Case reports can’t wait very long, so Blaine didn’t get to take the day off after all, but at least he and Kurt got to spend the night together. He can muster up a smile because of that alone. “What is it?” he asks.

Peterson steps inside, not bothering to close the door behind him. “I just wanted to congratulate you and Hummel for a job well done. You followed your hunch and showed initiative even when Organized Crime was against it, and it certainly paid off.” He looks around the office with a small smile. “Catching Langdon Davies is a huge deal, Blaine. You can probably expect a promotion because of it.”

“Oh, um. Wow,” Blaine stutters out. He doesn’t really know how to feel about a promotion –- he likes his current job, even if he feels honored the higher-ups are even considering giving him a promotion. He declined the Organized Crime position all those years ago because he likes working white collar, but if the promotion was within his own division and he could still work with his team...

“I don’t... I’d have to think about it,” he finally says. “And besides, Kurt came up with the escape plan and did a lot of the work. He deserves the credit as well. I mentioned it several times in my report,” he points out.

Peterson nods. “I know. That’s the other reason I’m here.” He gives the large envelope he’s been holding to Blaine. “This just came in. It’s from the U.S. Probation Office.”

Blaine frowns, taking the envelope and turning it over in his hands. “What is it?”

“Read it.” Peterson turns to leave, pausing in the doorway. “And talk about it with Kurt,” he adds.

Blaine looks up, surprised. He’s never heard his boss call Kurt by his first name, but before he gets the chance to ask more, Peterson has already stepped out and walked away. Blaine can feel his frown deepening, but he opens the envelope anyway, pulling out a few official-looking papers and looking them over curiously.

One of the sentences catches his eye, and when his mind makes sense of the words Blaine can feel his heart stuttering inside his chest, several different emotions hitting him all at once as his fingers tighten around the paper’s edge. He’s still staring at the sentence five minutes later when Kurt bounces into his office, smiling and holding Blaine’s badge in his hand.

“Sam told me to give you this,” he explains, placing the badge on Blaine’s desk. “The techs found it in the waste paper basket at the gallery. Apparently they’re still holding on to your gun because there were shots fired at the scene and there’s some protocol about it.” He scrunches his nose in thought and then grins. “But at least you got your badge back, right?”

Blaine finally looks up from the papers, and when he meets Kurt’s eyes, Kurt’s smile immediately disappears, his shoulders tensing.

“Blaine?” he asks worriedly, sitting down and reaching for Blaine’s hand over the desk. “What’s wrong?”

Blaine shakes his head, taking a breath. “N-nothing. Nothing’s wrong, honestly, everything’s better than...” He trails off, gesturing at the papers in front of him.

Kurt looks at the papers and tilts his head. “What are those? Don’t tell me Davies is getting a deal or something because that’s just-–”

“No, no,” Blaine interrupts, “nothing like that. This is... This is about you, actually.”

Kurt blinks. “Me?”

Blaine nods. “It’s a... It’s a letter from the U.S. Probation Office. And it’s...” He shakes his head again, this time with an overwhelmed laugh. He takes the uppermost paper and lifts it in front of his face, reading some of the words straight from the letter. “They have scheduled a hearing concerning your deal with the Bureau -– ‘because of Mr. Hummel’s outstanding service, including helping to catch Langdon Davies when he was not under any official orders to do so, the U.S. Probation Office is convening a hearing to discuss the commutation of his sentence.’ It’s... It’s in four weeks,” Blaine finishes.

“I don’t...” Kurt keeps looking at him. “I don’t understand. What does that even mean?”

“It means your sentence could be commuted, Kurt. It means no anklet, no radius, no nothing.” Blaine takes a deep breath, holding Kurt’s surprised gaze and trying to ignore the way his own heart is suddenly beating against his chest. “Kurt, it’s... In four weeks, you could be a free man.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another interlude from Kurt's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating for this chapter is M. We're getting closer to the end, folks! There will still be missing scenes and possible prompt fills, though. :)

_“State your name for the record, please.”_

_“Kurt Elizabeth Hummel.”_

_“Mr. Hummel, do you understand why you’re here today?”_

_“I do. You basically want to know if I’ve earned my freedom.”_

_“Exactly. Now, you’ve already served eighteen months of your four-year sentence under the supervision of Special Agent Blaine Anderson. While confined to a tracking anklet, you’ve helped Agent Anderson clear a very impressive conviction rate. The best in the New York office, actually.”_

_“We work well together.”_

_“I can see that. As I’m looking at all the cases you’ve solved together, including catching Langdon Davies, one of FBI’s most wanted, it seems to me that you are the poster-boy for reform, Mr. Hummel.”_

_“What can I say, ma’am, I’ve tried my best.”_

_“The question before this board is to determine whether you have truly changed. Over the next few days we’ll be interviewing some of your colleagues and closest acquaintances. Agent Anderson will also give his own personal recommendation, but today we would like to interview you, Mr. Hummel. Do you think you deserve to be free?”_

_“That’s not really my decision, is it? What I say here won’t change your minds. If something has the power to actually make you see that I’ve reformed, it’s what I’ve done during these eighteen months, not what I say. You already mentioned how I’ve helped Bl–- Agent Anderson in his work, but I’d also like to point out that during my time with the FBI I have never relapsed back to the life of crime. That’s because I’m done with it. For good. I don’t want to be that person anymore. It’s not who I am, it’s not who I want to be. I... I became a criminal because I thought I had nothing else left, but these eighteen months have showed me that I still have a life. That I can be someone else. That I have the potential to do something other than just con people and live a lie, and that doing that would actually make me a lot happier.”_

_“What would you do with your freedom, then, Mr. Hummel, if it was granted to you?”_

_“Um. I... I don’t know, really? I’m pretty content with my life as it is right now, so even if I wake up in a few days and the anklet is still there, I wouldn’t... I wouldn’t be that disappointed. I have a nice job, I have friends, I have a life that I enjoy and someone who... who makes me happier than I’ve ever been before. I can definitely live like this. But to be free -– to finally get the chance to be the person I’ve always wanted to be and to not be defined by my past anymore, to have the chance to be with the person... um, I mean, the people who mean the most to me, without my past getting in the way -– it would... That would mean the world to me.”_

_“But what would you_ do _with that freedom, Mr. Hummel?”_

_“Oh. I’d probably... go home? And make that home an even better one. You know, someone that means a lot to me once said to me that I should stop feeling like I don’t matter because of my past. That I am better than those lies and cons I came up with to get by, and maybe... If I was free, maybe I could finally be that better person in every single way. In every aspect of my life.”_

_“Thank you, Mr. Hummel. We’ll give you our answer by the end of this week.”_

_“Thank you.”_

 

\---

 

It turns out that four weeks really isn’t that long a time. At first Kurt is still riding high from Davies’s arrest and trying to actually understand the reality of his commutation hearing, and then there are new cases to work on, paperwork to write and evenings to spend together with Blaine –- and before Kurt even has the chance to realize it, before he even has the chance to talk about the whole thing with Blaine, the four weeks are up and the U.S. Probation Office starts the interviews to decide whether or not he gets to go free.

It’s one of the biggest decisions of his life, and it’s all happening so fast, much quicker than Kurt ever anticipated. He thought he still had more than two years left on his deal, all that time to figure out what he wants to do with his life when it’s completely his again. Obviously there is still the chance that the commutation hearing won’t pay off and he won’t be set free. For the first three weeks or so he’s actually one hundred per cent sure that the hearing will end up being nothing more than a nice gesture.

Of course he wants to be free; he wants to get rid of the anklet that still makes his skin itch when he has a bad day, wants to walk around New York City without thinking about the three-mile radius, wants to hold Blaine’s hand in public without being worried about running into someone from the office.

He wants to be free, he wants everything that comes with it, but when has life ever given him exactly what he wants?

He even tells it all to Rachel and Santana one night when Blaine has a late-night stake-out and the three of them take over his loft for a celebration. There’s wine and some weird vegan snacks Rachel has made, and for a few moments it feels just like old times. Santana gets too drunk, like she always does, and keeps asking about his and Blaine’s sex life while Rachel tells him with a very serious expression that she was right all along and he should’ve already thought more about his future, and then Kurt finds himself letting it all out –- all of his pent-up frustrations and wishes.

Kurt doesn’t see himself as a pessimist, but he doesn’t believe in rose-tinted glasses either, not after his mom, not after his dad and Carole, not after the years he spent on the run and on erasing almost everything that was left of him. He desperately wishes he could think differently, but the weeks rush by and he keeps on believing that the commutation hearing will be nothing more than just a few interviews that will change nothing, and then his life will continue the way it has for the past eighteen months. Anklet attached.

But then one morning, two days before his own interview with the Probation Office, he’s sitting in the conference room and talking about their new loan scandal case with Blaine, when Blaine suddenly stops in the middle of his sentence and looks at him, his eyes holding so many emotions that it would take a lifetime for Kurt to figure them out.

He would gladly spend a lifetime on that, and sometimes the thought scares him a little.

“You know,” Blaine says, tilting his head as if he’s considering Kurt, “I think you’re going to get your sentence commuted.”

Kurt shrugs, smiling a little self-deprecatingly like he does every time the commutation hearing comes up these days. “Maybe. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“No, Kurt, I really mean it.” Blaine puts down the file he’s holding, focusing all of his attention on Kurt. “You’re not... I remember what you were like when I was trying to catch you for the first time, and you’re not that person anymore. You’re yourself now. Sometimes I look at you and I feel like I was waiting all those years for this moment, for the chance to see the real you, and now it’s as if you’ve given me the honor to see you like this. As the person you would’ve been if life hadn’t let you down so many times.” He smiles, small and tender. “And I can’t be the only one who sees it. That’s why I think you’re going to get your sentence commuted.”

Kurt can feel his cheeks flushing, and he looks away from Blaine’s earnest eyes. Words like that are usually said in the privacy of their apartments, late at night or early in the morning, but somehow the fact that Blaine said them out loud at the Bureau, in the one place they can’t usually be completely honest, makes them even more meaningful, and Kurt can feel something warm curling around his heart.

God, he loves this FBI agent so much.

He glances around, making sure there aren’t any other agents lingering around the conference room, and leans over the table. “You do realize the people who decide whether or not I go free are not in love with me, though?” he whispers with a grin. “You are a bit biased, Blaine.”

Blaine lets out a laugh. “True, but I don’t have to be in love with you to see how much you’ve changed or how much you deserve this. If someone doesn’t see it, they must be as blind as a bat.”

Kurt blinks. Blaine sounds so honest, so absolutely sure and convinced, and when Kurt looks at him he feels a sudden ache inside his chest, the ache to shake away the last remains of his old life and start anew, with Blaine by his side –- and god, he really _does_ want to be free. He wants his sentence to be commuted. He wants it so much; he wants to be his own person and decide for himself again, wants to know that he survived and got away from the con-man life that could’ve destroyed him. He wants it _so badly_. More than anything. And Blaine obviously wants it too, Blaine who has supported him through everything, who has believed in him when no one else did and showed him that he can change if he wants to, and-–

Blaine is the one thing in his life he wanted and got as well, and maybe that has changed his luck for good.

Two days later, when he’s sitting in front of the board in his best suit, consciously keeping his hands still against his thighs, his hair impeccable as always, he remembers what Blaine said and lets the words pour out of his mouth.

He wants this. He deserves this.

 

\---

 

_“Agent Cohen-Chang, we understand that you’ve been working with Mr. Hummel ever since he started as a CI, is that correct?”_

_“That is correct, yes.”_

_“And how has it been working with him, then?”_

_“Well, I must admit that when Agent Anderson first told me that he was going to make a deal with_ the _Kurt Hummel, I thought he had lost it. I was so sure that Kurt was conning Blaine or that he was going to take the first chance and disappear. But he didn’t. He stuck around and he helped us solve cases. He’s a great asset to the Bureau, and once I got over the initial distrust, it’s been great working with him.”_

_“So do you support his commutation?”_

_“Like I said, he’s a great asset. I even consider him a friend, and I do think he’s changed. But that... That doesn’t change the fact that actions have consequences. He was convicted for four years and he has only served eighteen months of those four years so far -– and you know, his deal has been very generous. Personally I think he should finish out his time with the Bureau and only then be allowed his freedom. That’s what’s right by the system.”_

 

\---

 

_“Agent Evans, how has-–”_

_“He’s earned this, you know.”_

_“Ex–- Excuse me?”_

_“Kurt. He deserves his freedom.”_

_“We haven’t even asked you anything yet, Agent Evans.”_

_“I know, and I’m sorry for interrupting like that, it wasn’t very cool –- but Kurt? He deserves this more than anyone I know. Look, I’ve known Blaine ever since Quantico, and when he suggested the deal, I knew that he knew what he was doing. But then I met Kurt himself and I worked with him and, man... That guy is awesome. And he has completely reformed, even I can see that.”_

_“So you think his sentence should be commuted?”_

_“Absolutely. It would be a crime not to commute it. ... Ma’am.”_

 

\---

 

They’re reading in the living room the night after his interview when Kurt finally gets the chance to talk about his commutation with Blaine. They haven’t exactly been avoiding the issue –- or maybe Kurt himself has, because just a few days ago he didn’t really believe it was an actual possibility –- but they have been busy at work, finishing up old cases and taking on new ones, and it has just been easier to talk about something easier and lighter when they finally have time for themselves. Something that doesn’t involve so many what-ifs and uncertainties.

Kurt is lying on the couch with his legs on Blaine’s lap as he flicks through the old issues of Vogue he found at his favorite thrift store earlier today, but his mind is still going over his interview with the probation board. He went to the thrift store because he wanted to think about something other than the facial expressions of the board members and to stop second-guessing his own words at the interview, but apparently even vintage Vogues won’t ease his mind. He honestly has no idea how his interview went -– he was as honest as possible, he really tried to let it show how desperately he wants his freedom, but maybe it’s still not enough. Maybe the board members just saw a criminal and nothing else. There were no comments to indicate what the interviewers thought about him, and it’s driving him crazy.

He huffs, giving up, and puts down the magazine in his hands. “Blaine?” he ventures.

“Hm?” Blaine doesn’t look up from the case file he has been studying for the last hour, but he strokes his hand down Kurt’s leg to show that he’s listening, the concentrated furrow between his eyebrows softening with the movement.

“If I...” Kurt starts and then hesitates, straightening up on the couch. Blaine lifts his head and turns to look at him, curious and expectant. Perry is sleeping on the floor in front of the sofa table, her paws twitching every now and then as she dreams, and Kurt turns to look at her when he gets the rest of the sentence out. “If my sentence does get commuted, what happens then?”

Blaine blinks, slowly setting the case file aside. “Whatever you want to happen. You’ll be free, Kurt. That’s the gist of it.”

“I know, but... Does my deal with the FBI still stand even if my sentence is commuted?” Kurt tries again, turning to look back at Blaine. They have sometimes talked about Kurt’s future, but it has always been in abstracts terms, in the distant future, but it’s not so abstract anymore, and Kurt can feel his hands twitching in his lap in nervousness. “Does the FBI expect me to still work as a CI, or is that deal terminated as well?”

Blaine shifts on the sofa, turning to face Kurt. “Well,” he starts, “Peterson told me that if you want to continue working with the FBI, your consultant job will be waiting for you whether or not your sentence gets commuted. But if it does get commuted, you can obviously choose to do whatever you want, and...” He tilts his head, squinting his eyes a little, as if he’s considering Kurt. “I’m kind of getting the feeling that you don’t want to work for the Bureau anymore if you go free?”

Kurt looks away again, biting his lower lip, his hands twisting even more nervously. “I... Maybe?” he says carefully, worried about how Blaine will react.

“Hey, hey-– _Kurt_.” Blaine reaches for his hands, taking them into his own and stroking his thumb over Kurt’s knuckles. “I don’t expect you to work for the FBI if it’s not what you want. I really don’t. You have to know that. I’ll support you whatever you choose to do with your life -– as long as it’s legal, obviously,” he adds with a lopsided grin, and Kurt snorts out a laugh, giving Blaine’s thigh a gentle nudge.

“Thank you,” he says after a moment, squeezing Blaine’s hands. “I just... It was never my dream to work for the FBI, you know?” He glances up at Blaine, encouraged by the open expression on his face, before looking back down at their hands again. “I know it’s your dream and I love how passionate you are about it, I love all the agent-like traits you have and how you believe in setting things right and solving the puzzles, but... It was never something _I_ wanted.” His head snaps up abruptly, words rushing out of his mouth in alarm. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve enjoyed working for the FBI, I really have, and I’ve loved working with you especially and I’ll be forever thankful for this deal in more ways than one, but it just keeps-–”

“It keeps reminding you of the person you were,” Blaine finishes for him, smiling gently. “A con-man.”

“Exactly,” Kurt breathes out, relieved that Blaine gets it. “I mean, yes, I’m solving crimes, but if I work for the FBI, I’m still somehow inside the criminal world in one way or the other.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I guess I could consult on cases occasionally if I could be of any help, but I want to do something... different. Something that’s just me. Not the person I became to survive.”

Blaine starts blinking his eyes quickly, averting his gaze and taking a deep shuddering breath. “Y-you have no idea how amazing it is to hear you talk about your future like that, Kurt,” he says. “You’ve come so far, and you seem so much happier than I’ve ever seen you before.”

Kurt blinks his own eyes, trying to clear away the sudden tears in them. Blaine sounds so touched, so _proud_ of him, and Kurt just has to cup Blaine’s face with his hand and tilt it up so he can close the space between them and press his lips against Blaine’s. Blaine latches on to him immediately, his hand rising to Kurt’s bicep and holding on tight. Kurt keeps his own eyes open, watching the way a few stray tears trickle down Blaine’s cheek and get stuck on his eyelashes. Kurt strokes his thumb over the wetness, and he can’t almost believe that Blaine is crying for him, because he’s so happy for Kurt, and it’s...

It’s everything. Kurt is going to be forever grateful that his case file ended up on Blaine’s desk all those years ago, that Blaine was the one who kept pursuing him until he was caught, that Blaine was the one who somehow saw behind the con-man exterior and decided to give Kurt a chance. He could’ve ended up with any agent, with someone who didn’t give a damn, and the whole story could’ve gone in a number of different ways -– but somehow he got Blaine.

Blaine, who breaks the kiss, gasping for breath and leaning away until he can brush the tears away from his face with the back of his hand. “S-sorry.” He gives out an overwhelmed laugh. “I guess I got a bit emotional there.”

“It’s okay,” Kurt assures with a soft smile. “I love you,” he adds, just because he can and wants to.

Blaine looks up, his lips turning into a smile. “I love you too.” He blinks the last tears away from his eyes and leans his arms against his crossed legs in expectancy. “So... If you don’t want to work for the FBI, what do you want to do then?”

“Oh god, that’s what I’ve been thinking about ever since my interview.” Kurt throws his head back and stares at the ceiling. “They asked me what I would do with my freedom, and I had no idea what to say. I’ve talked about it with Rachel a few times, but I always thought I would have all the time in the world to figure it out and now it could all happen in a few days, and-–”

“What about something with fashion?” Blaine interrupts, glancing pointedly at the old issues of Vogue piled on the sofa table. “You obviously have the talent for it.”

Kurt looks back down, frowning in thought. “Maybe. It was one of the paths I was considering before everything happened, but... I don’t know, I really don’t.”

“You don’t have to decide right away,” Blaine rushes to say, reaching for his hand again and squeezing it reassuringly. “You can take time to figure it all out when your sentence gets commuted. It’s a big decision, Kurt, and it deserves to be thought through.”

“I know,” Kurt sighs. “I just spent so many years ignoring everything like this that I’m suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed by all the possibilities.”

Blaine smiles, tugging at his hand. “But all those possibilities are a good thing.”

“They are.” Kurt stares at their joined hands, lost in thought. “I guess I could take the time to travel as well? I’ve been confined to the same city for years, and it’d be nice to see life outside of New York again. That way I could also take care of some things and properly say goodbye to everything in my old life...”

He has a few stashes and hide-outs outside of New York, and he needs to figure out what he should do with them if he goes free and how he should deal with all the savings and profits left from his criminal days. He’s so concentrated on solving that issue that he completely misses the way Blaine’s hand twitches against his own, doesn’t notice how Blaine’s breath catches in his throat and how Blaine averts his gaze.

Kurt doesn’t notice how Blaine looks forlorn all of a sudden, and when he finally does look up, shaking his head to clear his mind, Blaine has already schooled his expression into a supportive smile.

 

\---

 

_“How long have you known Mr. Hummel, Ms. Berry?”_

_“Oh, we’ve been friends since high school! Or well, there have been times when we’ve been more frenemies than friends, and then of course we had a falling out when he started running cons and I was busy with my career on Broadway and all that, but-– You’re not really interested in all that. Sorry.”_

_“It’s alright. So you knew Mr. Hummel even before he committed his first crime, is that correct?”_

_“Yes, that is correct. I’ve known him since we were sixteen or something like that. He’s my best friend, and I’d trust him with everything.”_

_“Do you think he has reformed?”_

_“Definitely. No question about it. Actually, I don’t think being a criminal was ever a permanent solution for him. It was more like playing a role that didn’t quite fit, and now he has the chance to shake that role off for good. I mean, ever since we reconnected some months ago, I’ve seen the way he has changed, the way he acts so differently and seems so much happier now than he did all those years ago, and I... Yes, I think he has reformed. And I don’t think he’s going to go back to being a con-man ever again. If there’s something Kurt is absolutely not, it’s stupid.”_

_“So you think he has earned his freedom?”_

_“Yes. He has.”_

 

\---

 

_“Agent Peterson, as we understand you are the Assistant Special Agent in Charge of the FBI’s White Collar Division in New York. This means you are the supervisor for Agent Blaine Anderson’s team as well –- the team in which Kurt Hummel has now worked for eighteen months.”_

_“That is my job description, yes.”_

_“What is your opinion on Mr. Hummel?”_

_“Look, like you said, I’m the ASAC for the White Collar Division. I supervise all the teams, but I don’t necessarily work with them on every single case. I know that Hummel is a great asset to the Bureau, I know he and Anderson work together extremely well, and I know that the very few complaints I’ve ever received about Hummel have turned out to be irrelevant and false, and-–”_

_“There have been complaints?”_

_“Yes, from agents who are apparently incapable of working with criminal informants in general. They had nothing to do with Hummel in particular. And as I was saying, that is all I really know about Hummel. I don’t know him that well, and I know you’re going to ask me if I think he deserves his freedom and all that –- but the only person who really knows whether or not Kurt Hummel should be set free is Blaine Anderson. You should ask him.”_

_“We are going to interview Agent Anderson tomorrow before we make our decision, Agent Peterson. But what about your own-–”_

_“Whatever Blaine says, I’ll agree with him. If he says Hummel’s sentence should be commuted, then I think his sentence should be commuted. I trust him. I trust him to know Hummel better than me. Most likely better than anyone else.”_

 

\---

 

Kurt doesn’t notice it until the evening before Blaine’s interview with the Probation Office. Blaine’s is the last one, scheduled right on the same day as the board is supposed to make their decision, and he has been exceptionally supportive and gentle these past few days, always ready to remind Kurt that he can do what he wants to and that he has a real chance of getting his sentence commuted. It’s nice, of course it is -– Kurt’s own mind is a whirlwind of different emotions and half-made decisions, and it’s nice to feel like Blaine is the one constant he can always rely on.

But then it’s the evening that could be Kurt’s last night on the anklet if the Probation Office decides to set him free, possibly his last night as a CI and a con-man. There are messy, open-mouthed kisses and clothes dropped on the floor of Blaine’s bedroom as soon as they get home, Kurt’s tracking anklet getting caught on his underwear and Blaine’s hands easing the shirt from his shoulders, trembling almost unnoticeably against the fabric while Kurt’s fingers map the muscles on Blaine’s back. Blaine doesn’t let go of him even when they fall on the bed, as if every inch of his body is desperate to stay connected to Kurt.

There are more kisses, slower and more tender this time, and the feeling of Blaine’s naked and sweaty skin pressed against Kurt’s own. Blaine’s fingers dig into Kurt’s shoulders when Kurt preps him, and his legs immediately fall open when Kurt’s done, giving him more space. Blaine doesn’t say anything during all of it, just breathes heavily and lets out small whines and moans, all of them a sign of him letting go, like he always does with Kurt, and forgetting to be the put-together FBI agent for a while. It’s probably one of Kurt’s favorite sounds and sights, and he loves it when they have the time to have sex like this, all the way and face to face.

Blaine’s mouth drops open in an inaudible gasp when Kurt pushes inside of him, his eyes screwed shut so tightly that even his forehead is furrowed. Kurt pauses for a moment when their bodies are completely connected, focusing on just breathing and on the tight, almost scorching heat around his cock, and then he shifts his hands on the bed on either side of Blaine’s body, trying to lift himself into a more upward position.

Blaine’s fingers immediately scrabble against his back, pulling him closer. “D-don’t go,” he breathes out, his eyes snapping open. Kurt can see how they’re shining in the bedroom’s soft lighting, and he stops, staring into Blaine’s eyes and forgetting everything else for a moment.

“Blaine?” he asks worriedly.

“J-just...” Blaine wraps his legs around Kurt’s waist, crossing his ankles over the small of his back and pushing him closer, keeping his hands securely on Kurt’s shoulder blades at the same time. “L-like this. Can we do it like this? I want... I want to feel you close.”

Something tightens around Kurt’s heart, and he leans down, sealing his lips over Blaine’s.

“Of course,” he whispers breathlessly into Blaine’s mouth. He winds his own hands under Blaine’s hips, pulling him as close as possible and looking into his eyes even though Blaine’s eyelids are already fluttering closed –- in relief? –- at the movement.

Kurt pulls out and then pushes back in again, keeping his movements slow until he can feel some of the tension in Blaine’s body melting away. The previous rush and desperate movements are forgotten for now. Kurt keeps a steady pace as Blaine starts whimpering, rocking against Kurt’s thrusts as well as he can in their position, until Kurt moves his hand from Blaine’s hip to his cock, stroking it fast and hearing the way Blaine practically sobs with pleasure.

Blaine comes first, and Kurt follows soon after, his body tensing up as he gasps out something unintelligible against Blaine’s shoulder. For a moment all he can feel is Blaine, the world narrowed down to the rumpled sheets and the warm body against and around him, and he just breathes it in, not letting go of Blaine.

They stay like that for a long while, just holding each other while they come down and the rest of the world starts to come back to focus, Kurt’s face buried against the curve of Blaine’s neck and Blaine’s fingers trembling on Kurt’s back. Kurt only pulls out when his heartbeat finally starts to slow down back to normal, and then he flops down on the bed next to Blaine, staring at the ceiling and listening to the way their heavy breathing echoes around the room.

Blaine shifts on the bed after a moment, lazily reaching out for the tissues on the bedside table to clean them up. When he’s done, Kurt speaks up, feeling like he finally has enough air in his lungs for words.

“You’re worried that I’m going to leave you if my sentence gets commuted, aren’t you?” he asks quietly.

He can feel Blaine freeze next to him, but then he obviously forces his body to relax again, taking a deep breath before answering. “I said I’m going to support you whatever you decide to do,” Blaine says, and Kurt can hear how carefully he’s arranging his words, “and if that includes you traveling around the world or settling down somewhere else, I’m still going to support you.”

Kurt rolls over to his side and looks at Blaine. “That’s nice, Blaine, but it doesn’t really answer my question.”

Blaine huffs, resting his hands over his stomach. “I don’t expect you to stay just for me. You’re going to be free, Kurt, with the whole world open at your feet. You can live anywhere you want to, but my... My life is here, in this city.” He pauses, blinking his eyes quickly. “So of course I’m worried. Of course I’m wondering what this whole commutation could mean to us. I can’t exactly follow you anywhere you go and-–”

“And I would never ask you to,” Kurt interrupts, reaching out and squeezing Blaine’s bare shoulder. “Your job and life is here, Blaine. I could never ask you to leave it all on hold because of me. Besides, you have to understand -– this is something I need to do on my own. I need to take some time for myself to figure out what I’m going to do with my life and to let go of some of the things that have been holding me back.”

“I know that,” Blaine says, lifting his hand and running his fingers through his hair, the gel he put in it in the morning almost gone already. His hand stops mid-movement. “Actually, I have... I have something for you that’s kind of relevant to that.”

Kurt sits up and watches curiously as Blaine suddenly pushes himself off the bed, not even pausing to put any clothes on as he walks to his dresser and pulls the top drawer open. He rummages through the contents for a moment until he finds what he’s looking for –- a case file with light blue covers that looks a bit thicker than any of the ones Kurt’s seen before -– and then moves to sit back down on the bed, still completely naked like it’s the most natural thing in the world, holding the file carefully in his hands.

“This is the file I started on you when your case first landed on my desk,” Blaine explains. Kurt looks down at the file, feeling his own eyes widening in surprise. “I’ve never shown it to anyone else,” Blaine continues, tugging the blanket over his lap, “mostly because it just had my own speculations and because I had the habit of collecting all sorts of irrelevant evidence and-–” He lets out a laugh, his nose scrunching up. “That probably sounds a bit creepy?”

“It really doesn’t,” Kurt assures him with a small smile.

Blaine smiles back. “Good. Anyway, I hadn’t looked at this file in years, but then you... Um.” He hesitates, looking down and turning the file over in his hands. “Then you told me about your family,” he says carefully, and Kurt’s shoulders immediately tense up. “And I just felt like I had to do _something_ , I had to at least try to help you in some way,” Blaine continues, the words rushing out of his mouth, “so I went through every database I have access to and even pulled in some favors to check the ones I’m not authorized to use, and I... found this.”

He pulls out the top sheet from the file, extending it towards Kurt.

Kurt swallows roughly and looks from the paper to Blaine and back again. “What is it?” he asks, trying to ignore the way his voice shakes.

“I was going to give it to you when your sentence was commuted,” Blaine says, nudging the paper against Kurt’s leg, “but well, who am I kidding, of course your sentence is going to be commuted, so I might as well give it to you now.” He looks down, obviously worried about Kurt’s reaction. “I’m the only one who knows about this, and I... I really want you to have it.”

Kurt reaches out his hand and takes the paper from Blaine, turning it over so he can read what’s on it. There’s not much -– just a few markings in the top margin indicating where and when it was printed and by whom, and then, almost in the middle of the page in the neat typing Kurt has come to associate with official FBI papers, a name and an address in Cincinnati.

 _Finn Hudson_.

Kurt’s fingers start to tremble, the paper shuddering in his grasp. He suddenly feels choked up, like there’s something huge lodged inside his throat. “Is this-–” he croaks out.

“It’s his current address,” Blaine answers quietly, searching Kurt’s face. “He had covered his tracks pretty well, but not well enough for the FBI. He, um, he’s working in a small garage that’s just around the corner of that address.” Blaine gestures at the paper and shifts nervously on the bed. “I found out that he’s living in Cincinnati before we caught Davies, but I didn’t tell you then because you were still tied to the anklet and I didn’t want to give you any false hopes when you were not even allowed to leave the city. Obviously I was going to tell you, but then your commutation hearing came up and I thought now you could actually go find him -– I mean, only if you want to, of course –- and if you’re thinking about traveling anyway, maybe you could-–”

“You went through all this trouble for me?” Kurt breathes out, interrupting Blaine’s nervous rambling and moving his eyes away from the words on the paper to look Blaine in the eyes.

“Of course I did,” Blaine says, tilting his head in confusion. “I just hope I wasn’t overstepping or anything? Or, I don’t know, withholding information? Because that wasn’t–-  _mmph_!”

Kurt interrupts him again by surging forward, pressing his lips against Blaine’s and closing his eyes to stave off the sudden tears he can feel gathering in the corners of his eyes. Blaine sways backwards from the force of the sudden kiss and grabs a hold on Kurt’s arm to keep himself from falling over. Soon he’s responding in kind, though, making a small noise at the back of his throat and moving their lips in a better angle.

Kurt sucks Blaine’s lower lip into his mouth one more time and then lets go with an audible smack, leaning away and trying to catch his breath.

“You...” he whispers. “You found my brother. I can’t believe you actually found Finn.”

Blaine strokes his hand down Kurt’s arm with a small smile. “Honestly, it was the least I could do.”

Kurt lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “God, now I really need to get my sentence commuted so I can go see him and try to set things right.” He looks down at paper once again, reading the words over and over again, hardly believing them to be true. “I... can’t believe I could actually get my brother back after all this time.”

“You will,” Blaine stresses, sounding much surer than Kurt himself feels like. “You will get your sentence commuted and you will go see your brother and travel the world and figure out what you want to do. You’re going to be free, Kurt.”

Kurt exhales shakily, brushing away the tears on his cheeks and setting the paper aside. He doesn’t want to wrinkle it -– he wants it to stay as legible and clean as possible, because of several different reasons. Blaine’s hand is still stroking his arm in slow movements, reassuring and gentle, and Kurt looks down at it, feeling a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he really feels completely overwhelmed by the strength of Blaine’s love, by all the things Blaine has done for him and continues to do every single day. It’s so easy to love him, so natural and simple that Kurt doesn’t even have to think about it; he just feels it, deep inside his heart and body and mind, a warm and exciting sensation that makes him feel like things are as they’re meant to be. It’s almost like breathing, like the beat of his heart, something unconscious but still so important.

A few years ago, when Kurt was running more cons than he can remember, never stopping to take a breath even for a moment, he thought that stability was something he could never have in his life –- that he was just going to keep moving and changing himself for as long as he could, that there was no reason to tie himself down to anyone or anything when he would just change his mind the next day or the other person would disappear completely. There was always a new crime, a new city and a new hide-out waiting for him, another narrow escape and another successful con, another way to run away from everything else in his life.

But when he looks at Blaine, he wants to stop running. When he looks at Blaine, he feels like he’s looking at forever.

Kurt gives another laugh, shaking his head. “You really are something, Special Agent Blaine Anderson,” he says.

“What?” Blaine asks with a grin.

“You just... You make me feel so connected and safe and loved,” Kurt says, looking into Blaine’s eyes, “and I didn’t think I was ever going to find someone who would make me feel like that. I didn’t think I was ever going to find someone like _you_.”

Blaine’s smile softens into something gentle and happy, something that Kurt has only ever seen aimed at himself. “I could say the same thing about you, Songbird,” Blaine says, his eyes shining again, and suddenly Kurt remembers what they were originally talking about.

“And I promise you,” he starts fervently, reaching for Blaine’s hand and holding it tightly in his own, “that no matter where I go or no matter what happens with Finn, you aren’t going to lose me. I’m not letting go of you, Blaine, especially not if my sentence gets commuted and I can finally be with you without all this secrecy and hiding.”

Blaine inhales shakily, and Kurt squeezes his hand, leaning closer to him on the bed. “My life is in New York as well,” he continues. “This is my city. I just need to take care of some things before I can come back home again for good. But I will come back, I _promise_.”

“I don’t want to hold you back, though,” Blaine says, looking up at Kurt through his lashes.

“You won’t,” Kurt swears, leaning in and giving Blaine’s lips a small kiss. “You never could. You’re the one who helped me be free.”

 

\---

 

_“Please state your name and your relationship to Kurt Hummel for the record.”_

_“Special Agent Blaine Anderson. I’ve been Kurt Hummel’s handler at the Federal Bureau of Investigation since his release into our custody. For eighteen months, to be exact.”_

_“As we understand, you’re the one who caught him.”_

_“I caught him twice, ma’am. And I think you should know that the last time I caught him, those eighteen months ago, he was standing in an empty apartment, looking more lost and alone than I’ve ever seen him. He didn’t have anything. He wasn’t happy. I could see that the second I stepped into that apartment.”_

_“And what about now?”_

_“Now Kurt has a life. He has friends, he has a home, and he has hope. He’s happy. As you’ve most likely heard during your interviews, there are a lot of people who see Kurt as more than just a criminal, and I’m definitely one of them. It’s one of the reasons I suggested this deal for him in the first place. I wanted to give him a chance, and he... He sometimes bends and stretches the rules, I can admit that, but it’s always for a good reason and it has always paid off in our investigations. And ever since he started working for the FBI, he hasn’t done anything illegal, and I honestly think he never will.”_

_“Is that your professional or personal opinion?”_

_“Both. I think he has completely given up the life of crime. When I was first chasing him, I once told my superiors that every single new alias Kurt Hummel makes is a complete reinvention of the previous ones, with almost nothing surviving of the original. Kurt is the master of reinvention, but I think he has now reinvented himself for the last time -– into the person he himself wants to be, not who he needs to be for a con.”_

_“So you think Mr. Hummel has reformed?”_

_“Of course he has. I see it every day. Ten years ago he was just another case file that got dropped on my desk because some other agent was busy, but now Kurt is... Somewhere during all this time I’ve known him, he has become my best friend. My... very good, amazing friend. He’s brilliant and kind and brave, and he has a wonderful heart he’s been hiding for years underneath that con-man persona. I know it probably sounds weird to you, but Kurt is the most moral, compassionate person I have ever met, and now he’s finally letting all that shine through for the whole world to see. And if he could do that as a free man, if he could really let go of his past and move on... That’s all I want for him.”_

_“I guess we already know the answer for this one, but just for the record: Do you think Kurt Hummel’s sentence should be commuted, Agent Anderson?”_

_“Yes. Yes, absolutely. Kurt should be free.”_


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, it’s the last proper chapter! There’s still going to be an epilogue which will probably be posted some time next week - and also those missing scenes and possible prompt fills I’ve mentioned before. :)

The anklet clicks open, and Blaine pulls it away from Kurt’s leg, slowly standing back up again. He sets the anklet on his desk and watches as Kurt takes a deep breath. Kurt flexes his fingers and then slowly extends his left leg in front of him, looking at his bare ankle with a curious expression. They have taken the anklet out for undercover missions before, but this time is so much more different.

“Alright?” Blaine asks carefully.

“My leg feels weirdly empty without the anklet.” Kurt tilts his head in confusion, inspecting his foot and wiggling it a little in the air. “It feels lighter, somehow. I guess I’d gotten used to wearing that particular accessory...”

Blaine smiles at him. They’ve already had their celebrations -– a private party for their closest friends at Kurt’s loft, with lots of singing and laughing, and then later a small party at the office with the expensive champagne that was confiscated during one of their cases and a cake one of the probies had baked with the words “ _Fly, Songbird, fly_ ” written on it. Even Peterson wandered out into the bullpen during the party to clap Kurt on the shoulder and tell him congrats on his freedom before stealing a piece of the cake and disappearing back to his office.

Kurt’s smile was breathless and overwhelmed, so real even though there were dozens of people around him, and Blaine doesn’t think he’s ever seen him smile as much as he did during those two celebrations. He has rarely even heard Kurt laugh so freely, and when he has it has always been in the privacy of their homes, where no one else but Blaine can see and hear it. Something warm and loving and proud kept shooting through Blaine’s heart every time he saw Kurt chatting with someone with a wide, toothy smile on his face and his hands gesturing excitedly –- and he just knew that he would do whatever it takes to make Kurt look that happy as often as possible for the rest of his life.

But the celebrations have come and gone, the paperwork for Kurt’s release has finally come through, and the only thing left now is to get rid of the anklet. And to say goodbye.

“Maybe you should start wearing pants that show your ankles?” Blaine jokes, looking down and trying to keep his overwhelming emotions at bay.

“Maybe not,” Kurt replies, narrowing his eyes at the idea. He stands up and stretches his legs, still staring at his empty ankle and looking a little overwhelmed himself. “I think they’re more your style than mine anyway,” he adds and glances up at Blaine with a grin.

Blaine gives a watery laugh, blinking his eyes more quickly. Damn his treacherous emotions. He has already gotten through everything else without breaking down, from the moment when the decision was announced to Kurt’s emotional speech at the office party the other night, but now when they finally take the anklet off he’s unable to fight back the waterworks.

He takes a shuddering breath and brushes away the few tears that have managed to escape, trying to make the movement seem casual. “So do you-– Do you have everything ready?”

Kurt nods, rocking on his heels. “I do. The flight for Cincinnati leaves in a couple of hours, and all I have to do before that is to pick up my suitcase from the loft and leave the keys to my landlord.” He gives a sheepish smile. “And try not to panic too much.”

“It’s going to be fine, Kurt,” Blaine assures him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “I’m sure Finn has missed you too and will be happy to see you –- and even happier to see that you’ve turned your life practically upside down.”

“And who do I get to thank for that?” Kurt asks softly, looking into Blaine’s eyes.

Blaine feels a tremor run through his body, and then all of his emotions finally spill over. He pulls Kurt against himself, winding his arms around his body and holding on tightly. Kurt immediately hugs him back, tucking his chin over his shoulder and stroking his hands down Blaine’s back.

Blaine inhales deeply and lets himself get lost in the touch, in Kurt’s familiar scent all around him. He buries his face in Kurt’s shoulder, hoping that the few tears he couldn’t reel back in will just soak into the fabric of Kurt’s jacket without a trace.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” he whispers in a hoarse voice.

Kurt inhales shakily and squeezes Blaine against himself. “And me you. But I’m coming back,” he promises, his hand rubbing over Blaine’s shoulder blade. “It might take weeks or even a few months while I figure everything out, but then I’m coming back and I’ll be right here again. In New York with you.” Kurt leans away and tilts his head so he can look into Blaine’s eyes. “I know this is terrifying and new for both of us, but we’re going to make it, okay?”

Blaine nods, taking a step back but letting his hands stay on Kurt’s waist. “I know,” he says, swallowing roughly. “Just promise me you’ll be careful?”

“I will.” Kurt pats his shoulders once more and then lets go, glancing around to make sure no one saw them. Blaine reluctantly withdraws his own hands as well, even though he just wants to keep holding on to Kurt, wants to stay with him and never let him go.

A few months ago, before the Davies case had even popped up on their radar, Blaine actually stopped in front of jewelry store on his way home from Kurt’s loft. He stared at the engagement rings on display in the shop window, and a part of him was tempted to step in and look at them more closely, just because -– but then the rational part of his brain caught up with him and reminded him that it was too soon, way too soon, even if he’s at the age where getting married is almost expected and his mom has hinted at it already. The timing and the situation just wasn’t right in any way, even if his heart already knows that what he has with Kurt is it for him.

But now Kurt’s sentence is commuted and he’s leaving, with no idea when he’ll come back. Blaine still knows that Kurt is it for him, knows that Kurt is his forever, no matter what, but he doesn’t know what’s going to happen now that Kurt finally gets the chance to be completely free again. He wants Kurt to be free, wants him to do everything he has ever wanted to do, but it doesn’t matter how often Kurt reassures him that everything will be alright between them. Blaine still can’t help feeling like he can’t really compete against the rest of the world, against everything Kurt now gets the chance to experience as a free man with nothing holding him back.

Blaine trusts Kurt more than anyone else, but he also knows that going out into the world after four years of prison and eighteen months of CI work might make Kurt realize that New York is not the place for him after all. That the FBI agent who caught him is not the person for him.

But that’s okay. If it makes Kurt happy, it’s okay.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you to the airport?” Blaine asks, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“I am.” Kurt nods, giving a small smile. “If you drove me, I wouldn’t be able to step through those gates and leave. And I want to do this on my own.”

Blaine smiles back at him. “I’m really proud of you, Kurt. You know that?” Because he is. He always will be.

“I know.” Kurt’s smile softens and he starts leaning in, obviously about to kiss Blaine, but then he seems to realize that they’re still at the office and stops, giving a sheepish smile and looking away.

“I... I should probably get going,” he says, a little disappointed. “I promised my landlord I’d bring her the key as soon as possible. Apparently she already has new tenants lined up for the loft.”

Blaine’s heart clenches painfully in his chest when he thinks about new people living in Kurt’s loft, about all of Kurt’s possessions tucked away in a storage unit for safe-keeping. It feels like he’s losing one half of his literal home, and when Kurt leaves his figurative home will be gone as well.

“Then I guess this is g–-,” Blaine starts and stops, remembering what he once promised to Kurt. He can’t say that word.

Kurt smiles sadly. “You promised you’d never say goodbye to me, Blaine. So we won’t say that.” He reaches out to brush his fingers over Blaine’s hand. “So let’s say... I’ll be seeing you?” he suggests tentatively.

Blaine nods, tangling their fingers together. “I’ll be seeing you,” he agrees.

They step out of Blaine’s office together, instinctively letting go of each other’s hands when they start to walk down the stairs to the lower level. It’s a quiet day, with most of the agents on the field or running errands, but Sam and Tina are still present, and Kurt stops to say his goodbyes to them. Blaine stands aside, hoping that his smile doesn’t look as tearful as he feels, and when Sam has hugged Kurt and Tina has wished him good luck, he follows Kurt into the lobby, feeling the way his hands twitch nervously at his sides. If he can’t drive Kurt to the airport, he’ll at least escort him to the elevator.

Kurt pushes the button and turns around to face Blaine, looking at him as if he’s trying to memorize his features. “So...” he starts, fiddling with his hands.

“So,” Blaine repeats.

“I really want to kiss you before I go,” Kurt confesses quietly.

Blaine swallows and blinks against the tears that have started gathering in his eyes again. “I really want to kiss you too,” he breathes out.

Kurt’s face crumples for a moment, but then he slowly reaches out for Blaine’s hand again, giving a watery smile. Blaine immediately takes the offered touch, squeezing Kurt’s fingers inside his own and desperately wishing he didn’t have to let go when the elevator makes it way to the right floor.

Kurt looks down at their hands, a small frown forming over his forehead. “You’re not my handler anymore though, are you?”

Blaine tilts his head in confusion. “Um, no? Your deal with the FBI is over, and that means you’re no longer working for me.”

Kurt grins. “That means that I _can_ actually do this, right here.”

He leans in, and before Blaine even realizes what’s happening their lips are pressed together, Kurt’s free hand rising to cup Blaine’s face while he still keeps holding on to his hand with his other one. Blaine sucks in a breath and immediately kisses him back, pressing their mouths closer and putting everything he has into the kiss, completely letting himself forget that they’re standing right in front of the glass doors to the office and that every agent in that office can see them right now.

It doesn’t matter –- Kurt is free, free to do whatever he wants, and Blaine doesn’t have to worry about him going back to prison because prison is not even an option anymore. Blaine lifts their joined hands to Kurt’s chest, holding them right over his heart, and whimpers into the kiss when Kurt deepens it, almost as if he’s desperate to make this kiss as meaningful as possible. This is them, finally being able to show everyone how much they mean to each other, finally being able to do this at the office, with every ounce of pride and love they have. It’s also the last chance for a kiss before Kurt leaves, and Blaine doesn’t even know how it could get any more meaningful than this, but somehow Kurt’s lips manage to do it anyway.

Kurt only breaks the kiss when both of them start to feel like they need some more air, their lips already a little numb from the force of the kiss. He still stays close, though, nuzzling his nose against Blaine’s cheek and pressing their hands more tightly against his heart. Someone, probably Sam, catcalls from the office, but they both ignore it, just breathing each other in.

Until the elevator dings next to them, the doors sliding open.

“I love you,” Kurt whispers urgently, “and I’ll be seeing you.”

“I love you too,” Blaine says, his voice breaking on the last word.

Kurt offers him one last smile, and then he reluctantly lets go, stepping away and into the elevator. They look at each other, both of them holding back tears, and Blaine’s whole body aches with the need to follow Kurt, to pull him in and just kiss him again.

The elevator doors slide closed, and the last thing Blaine sees is Kurt raising his hand in a small wave, his eyes shining with so many emotions that Blaine knows he’ll be trying to make sense of them for weeks to come.

And then he’s gone.

 

\---

 

When Blaine gets home later that day, Perry greets him at the door, her tail swishing back and forth with excitement. Blaine pets her head with a tired smile, and when he moves to step further inside, Perry suddenly stops, staring at the closed door with her tail wagging a lot more slowly than it did just a few seconds ago.

“Perry?” Blaine calls, his hands stilling against the tie he was loosening.

Perry sits down in front of the door, turning to look at Blaine over her shoulder. She looks a bit confused, as confused as dogs can look, and it takes a moment for Blaine to figure out what’s going on.

Perry is used to greeting two people instead of one.

“Oh girl,” Blaine breathes out, letting go of his tie. He kneels down next to his dog and wraps his arms around her, stroking her back. His throat feels tight, more than it has the whole day, and he lets himself bury his face in Perry’s soft fur, trying to ignore the way his heart stutters painfully inside his chest.

Perry lets out a muffled whine, nudging his muzzle against Blaine’s shoulder.

“He’ll be back,” Blaine says, the words catching in his throat.

He doesn’t know if he’s telling it to Perry or to himself.

 

\---

 

Missing Kurt is like an ache inside Blaine’s chest, something that keeps eating him up until he can feel his body echoing as if it’s hollow and all he can feel is the absence of Kurt. And it doesn’t help that no matter where he goes he’s always reminded of Kurt –- at the office Kurt’s empty desk is still waiting for its new occupant, the sketch books and pens Kurt used to keep there gone with him; no one sits across Blaine in the conference room or goes out to have lunch with him every day; and when he gets home in the evening it feels like something’s missing, like he’s suddenly living in a half-finished home and he can’t make it whole on his own.

But Blaine keeps going. He just can’t not to. He still has work to do, he still has Perry to take care of, he still has Sam patting his shoulder in silent support every day. He can get by without Kurt, of course he can. He did it for years before Kurt escaped from prison. This time is different, though, because now he knows what’s missing, knows that there’s something outside his work and his friends that makes him happier than anything else.

Luckily Peterson tells him that the promotion is still on the table, so Blaine can throw himself into his work with a good excuse, taking all the cases that are offered to his team and then some. He brings paperwork and case files home every evening, just so he has something to do that makes him unable to focus on the sudden emptiness of his apartment. It’s silly, really –- he and Kurt did hang out a lot at his place and Kurt often said he felt more at home there, but they were at the loft as well, and they didn’t even spend every night together, just to be careful –- but still the apartment seems to echo around Blaine’s steps, as if there’s suddenly more empty space to be filled.

Except it can’t be filled, not at least until Kurt comes back.

(If he comes back, the annoying voice inside Blaine’s head whispers.)

There are no messages from Kurt, no text messages or postcards, and Blaine knows that it means Kurt is just busy making up for lost time with Finn or dealing with everything else he wanted to take care of. Kurt had told him that he may not contact Blaine until he comes back, so it’s not a surprise, not at all -– but for some reason Blaine still startles every time his phone rings, and he goes through his mail even more thoroughly than usually every morning, even if he knows that it’s a lost cause.

His team works so hard that almost no one has time to question why Blaine spends as much time at the office as possible or why his desk is always covered in case files. Sam is the only one who seems to notice that something’s off. He keeps asking Blaine out for drinks or to watch the game at their regular place, and for the first five times Blaine declines, saying that he has work to do and he has to focus on it if he wants to get that promotion.

On the sixth time, Sam takes the case file Blaine’s working on out of his hands and ignores his disgruntled yelp.

“Dude, I know you miss Kurt,” Sam says, putting the file down on the desk out of Blaine’s reach, “but you can’t bury yourself into work. That’s not healthy.” He grabs Blaine’s arm and pulls him up, cutting off his protests. “So tonight we’re going to go to that bar down the street, watch the Buckeyes kick some ass and drink a few beers. And if you want to talk about anything, I’ll listen. And if you don’t, I’m paying the first round anyways.”

Blaine does end up talking, after he has drunk two beers, and he tells Sam how much he misses Kurt and how he’s afraid that he’s not coming back after all. He talks about how incredibly happy he is that Kurt is finally free and being himself and exploring the world he wants to see, not the one dictated by his next con or the movements of the law enforcement, but it’s still difficult. He talks about how empty his apartment feels, how Perry still looks at the door like she’s waiting for someone to step through it, how he himself sometimes looks up from his work and expects to see Kurt sitting across from him at the dining room table, discussing their current case with him or drawing clothes in one of his sketchbooks.

Sam just takes a sip of his beer and looks at him. “You’re an idiot,” he tells him.

“Excuse me?” Blaine says, turning to stare at Sam in confusion.

“Of course he’s coming back, man.” Sam leans against the bar, putting his beer down. “Have you noticed the way he looks at you? That’s some serious stuff right there, and there’s no way you’re not going to end up together.”

Blaine sighs in exasperation, rubbing his hand over his face. “I know that. I know that he loves me and I love him and I know we’re both in this for the long run -– but I can’t help feeling unsure anyway. I’ve gotten so used to him being here that I’m having a hard time with him...” he waves his hand in the air, “... not being here.”

“Well of course you are.” Sam rolls his eyes. “You’ve been moping around all on your own ever since he left, just thinking about what-ifs and letting everything... fester? Is that the right word?”

Blaine nods, staring at his beer.

“Yeah, you’ve been letting everything fester,” Sam continues, pointing at Blaine with a serious expression, “and that’s why you’re an idiot. You can’t just work all the time and ignore everything else in your life because then when Kurt comes back you’re just going to be a burned-out super agent who has lost his touch with the real world. I mean, you haven’t gone out with your friends ever since Kurt left, and Tina actually thinks that you’re angry at her for the things she said in the commutation hearing.”

Blaine’s head snaps up. “What?” he exclaims. “I’m not angry at her!”

“Exactly,” Sam says, “but she doesn’t know it because you’re always sulking and working double-shifts and being stupid.”

Blaine stares at him, unsure and not really following Sam’s train of thought.

“I can’t believe that someone who’s so good at their job can be such an idiot when it comes to their personal life,” Sam mutters, taking a gulp of his beer before he looks into Blaine’s eyes. “Look –- he’s going to come back, Blaine. I may not know a lot, but I know that what you two have is something serious. I get that you miss him, I do, but you just gotta wait it out. And what you’ve been doing for the past few weeks is not a very healthy way of doing that.”

Blaine blinks slowly, mulling over the words. “So you’re saying that I shouldn’t work as much as I have?”

“Fact.” Sam clinks their beers together, almost a little aggressively. “Because you’re going to get that promotion anyway. And because Kurt is going to come back. I mean, after everything you two have already been through, I can’t come up with a single reason why he wouldn’t come back. So you don’t have to worry about that.”

Blaine huffs out a laugh, shaking his head and lifting his hands in a calming gesture. “Okay, okay, I get it. You’re basically telling me to have faith in Kurt and in us?”

“Yes,” Sam drawls. “Because you’re an idiot if you don’t. Now let’s watch the game and get another round. Your turn to pay.”

Blaine snorts in amusement and signals for the bartender. He actually does feel better and more reassured, oddly enough. Maybe Sam is right; maybe Blaine has been letting things fester too much. Maybe he has been moping when he should’ve just had faith in Kurt and in their relationship -– and well, having that faith is not actually that difficult, now that someone has slapped some sense into him. Kurt is his forever, and the way Kurt looks at him and holds his hand and makes love to him... If that’s not a sign of him being Kurt’s forever as well, he doesn’t know what is. He just needs to remember that.

Perhaps he and Kurt both have their issues with trusting that things will turn out the way they want them to.

“You know, Sam... If I do get that promotion, they’re going to need a new leader for the team,” Blaine points out after a moment.

“Hm?” Sam hums, keeping his eyes on the television at the corner of the bar.

“Never mind,” Blaine laughs. “We can talk about it later.”

It does get easier after that, little by little. He still misses Kurt, of course he does –- he misses him more than anything or anyone he has ever missed in his life, and his apartment still echoes dully around him, the other side of the bed feeling empty when he’s sleeping -– but he starts to get used to it. He still works hard, not because he’s trying to ignore everything else but because he’s always worked hard, and when the emptiness gets too much to handle or when the annoying voice inside his head starts whispering nonsense again, he calls Sam or a few times even Rachel, just to have someone to keep him company and get him out of his apartment, out of his head.

Kurt promised to never lie to Blaine, and he said he’ll be back. Blaine just needs to trust in that.

 

\---

 

Kurt has been gone for over a month when the first report gets dropped on Blaine’s desk. It’s about an old case from seven years ago, an art gallery heist in Brooklyn that was never solved because they didn’t have enough evidence. The report is to inform Blaine that the painting that was then stolen has been unexpectedly returned to the gallery without any trace of where it has been for the past years or who decided to give it back.

It really isn’t that common for stolen artwork to suddenly get returned years after the robbery –- it does happen every once in a while, but it’s not exactly something that the FBI is relying on with unsolved cases. Blaine makes a few inquiries into the matter, only to find out that there isn’t much to find out. The painting has already been authenticated as the real thing by several experts, there was no evidence left on it, and it was delivered to the gallery by a courier service that has no idea who the original sender is. The gallery is understandably elated by the painting’s return, so Blaine decides not to dig too much into it.

Happy endings are sometimes just that, so he marks the case as solved and moves on.

But then there are more reports about similar incidents -– from banks, archives and galleries all over the States, from several private collectors in the New York area, from museums in London and Rome and Paris; paintings, money, jewels, bonds, historical artifacts and pop culture memorabilia being returned years after they were taken.

By the time the fourth report makes its way to Blaine’s desk, he has already made the connection, and as he reads the statement through with wide, surprised eyes, something warm starts spreading through his chest, making the corners of his mouth twitch with a smile.

They’re all Kurt’s crimes.

Most of them are cases where Kurt was suspected but never convicted, but a few of them, including the first one, are crimes Blaine has never connected to Kurt. One or two he has never even heard of. In either case, everything Kurt ever stole or forged is getting returned, aside from the things he fenced to someone else back in the day. It’s still a lot, with over twenty cases basically getting solved in a few week’s time. Blaine doesn’t know if anyone else has made the connection –- they must have, it’s not exactly normal for several stolen items to start popping up like this -– but he doesn’t say anything, just marks the cases as solved and smiles at the reports when they reach his desk or when he reads in the news about forged bonds being sent to a local police station with no trace of the sender.

Blaine almost bumps into Peterson in the breakroom one day when he has just finished reading a news article about a less known Renoir turning up in Paris after six years. A Renoir certainly brings back memories from the second time Blaine caught Kurt, from the time when their lives changed for good, and he’s humming under his breath as he steps into the breakroom, quickly changing his movement when he notices that Peterson is standing right next to the doorway, stirring his coffee.

“Anderson,” he says as a greeting.

“Sir,” Blaine replies, giving a nod as he reaches for the half-empty coffee pot.

“You heard from Hummel recently?” Peterson asks after a moment, his voice sounding deliberately casual.

Blaine can’t help it -– he ducks his head with a wide grin. “Um, no -– I haven’t, actually,” he lies, his voice just as casual.

Peterson purses his lips, looking almost a bit... amused? “I see. Good work on the copyright infringement case, by the way,” he adds, raising his coffee mug at Blaine before leaving the breakroom.

Blaine leans against the counter once he’s alone and lets out a laugh. Kurt did tell him that he wanted to say goodbye to everything in his old life, but Blaine honestly had no idea that it would mean this -– that Kurt would literally get rid of everything that he had left of his previous life, showing the world that Kurt Hummel is done with crimes for good.

It really is a reinvention.

Kurt must have known that Blaine would get reports about the returned items, and it’s almost as if Kurt’s communicating with him, in some weird way, and somehow that makes missing him a little bit easier.

 

\---

 

Blaine pushes the door to his apartment open with his shoulder, letting out a sigh of relief when he manages to wrangle himself, his keys, and all the case files and papers he’s carrying inside without dropping anything. He nudges the door closed with his hip before sidestepping to the small dresser he has in his hall and dropping everything he has in his hands on it, exhaling tiredly.

It’s been a long day, especially after last night’s stake-out, with interviewing suspects for their current case and finishing up the paperwork for their previous one. Blaine stretches his arms above his head for a moment, his muscles feeling tense and aching after the hours he has spent sitting in the uncomfortable chairs in the van or hunched over his desk. The Bureau should really invest in some ergonomic chairs.

He drops his arms down when he feels a little more flexible and sighs again –- and only then does he realize that Perry hasn’t come to greet him yet.

That’s unusual. Normally Perry is waiting at the door when he comes home, or she at least rushes to the hall when she hears him coming in, but as Blaine glances around the apartment he notices that his dog is nowhere to be seen. Blaine frowns in confusion as he starts to shrug out of his jacket. Maybe she’s just sleeping in the bedroom, but at this time of the evening that seems a bit out of the ordinary as well.

He has just draped his jacket over a chair and is reaching for his tie to loosen it, ready to call out Perry’s name, when he hears it. Someone is humming quietly in his apartment. His fingers freeze against the tie, his other hand unconsciously reaching for his gun. It sounds as if someone is in his kitchen, singing quietly under their breath, and Blaine can feel his heart starting to thud against his chest in anxiety.

He eases his gun halfway out of its holster and creeps down the hallway towards the kitchen, straining all his senses. Is it a burglar? But why would a burglar be humming in his kitchen? The front door was still locked, and when Blaine glances around his apartment a second time everything seems to be as he left it –- even his laptop is still on the dining room table where he forgot it last night. He keeps his fingers on the handle of his gun and stops next to his bookcase, slowly leaning forward to peek into the kitchen.

Perry is sitting next to the kitchen island -– that explains where she’s been all this time –- smiling her Labrador smile with her tongue lolling out of her mouth and her tail resting comfortably still on the floor. Blaine’s hand instinctively lets go of his gun, easing it back into the holster, because standing right in front of Perry, making coffee and humming _Silly Love Songs_ so softly that Blaine has to strain his ears to identify the song, is...

Kurt.

His back is to Blaine, but Blaine could recognize those shoulders anywhere. Could recognize Kurt anywhere. Kurt is swaying his hips in time with his humming as he measures coffee beans into Blaine’s coffee maker, and there’s a suitcase leaning against the kitchen counter a few feet from his legs, a familiar jacket draped over it.

It’s such a domestic sight, such a welcome sight, that Blaine can feel his heart swell inside his chest. Even the air in his throat seems to stutter on its way to his lungs because Kurt is back. He came back, and Blaine finally feels like he’s home again.

“Kurt,” he breathes out, his own voice sounding surprised in his ears.

Kurt startles in surprise, dropping the spoon he’s holding into the coffee bean bag before he spins around to face Blaine. Perry looks over to Blaine as well, her tail thudding against the floor a few times, but Blaine barely notices it. _Kurt_ is here, Kurt is standing just a few feet from him, and the smile that breaks over Kurt’s face when their eyes meet is the most beautiful thing Blaine has ever seen.

“Blaine!” Kurt exclaims, throwing the coffee beans on the counter, his smile widening even more. He instantly closes the distance between them and launches himself at Blaine, squeezing his arms tightly around Blaine’s shoulders and letting out a choked-off laugh against the curve of his shoulder. “God, I’ve missed you _so much_.”

Blaine closes his eyes and pulls Kurt more tightly against his body. He feels like crying and laughing at the same time, and the sound that comes out of his throat does sound like a weird mix between a sob and a laugh. He’s here. He’s home.

“I’ve missed you too,” he gasps. “Oh god, Kurt, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Kurt laughs, leaning away a little just so he can press his lips against Blaine’s and kiss him like it’s their first kiss all over again. “I think I do,” he whispers into Blaine’s mouth, “because I’ve missed you just as much.”

“P-please tell me you’re here for real,” Blaine says urgently, nuzzling his nose against Kurt’s cheek and running his hands over Kurt’s back. “Please tell me you’re really here and I’m not just dreaming after a rough day at work.”

Kurt leans away, his eyes suddenly worried. “You had a rough day? Oh god, is everything alright? You didn’t-–”

“Kurt,” Blaine interrupts, laughing even though he can feel a few tears trailing down his cheeks.

Kurt expression softens into a smile. “Sorry. I’m here, I promise. I’m here for good and I’m not going anywhere.”

Blaine lets out another combination between a laugh and a sob and pulls Kurt closer again, kissing the curve of his neck and clenching his hands into the fabric of Kurt’s shirt. “God, I was so scared that you weren’t going to come back,” he confesses.

“Blaine.” Kurt’s voice breaks on his name. “I told you I’d come back, I-–”

“I know, I know,” Blaine interrupts again, stroking Kurt’s back reassuringly. “I know you did, but I was still so scared that you were going to realize New York isn’t for you after all and-–”

“Well, to be honest, I was a bit scared that you’d have changed the locks,” Kurt says, shrugging in Blaine’s embrace. “Then I would have had to pick my way in.”

“I would never...” Blaine starts, turning to look into Kurt’s eyes.

“I know. Just as I knew I would always come back,” Kurt interrupts this time. “This is my city as well, Blaine. And you are my forever,” he adds, smiling a little shyly.

“Fearlessly and forever,” Blaine mutters to himself, amazed and happier than he has ever been, and then he surges forwards, meeting Kurt’s lips in another kiss. It quickly turns heated, Kurt’s hands scrabbling desperately against Blaine’s back while Blaine sucks Kurt’s lower lip into his mouth, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Blaine starts pulling at the hem of Kurt’s shirt, trying to get it out of his pants, and Kurt is quickly loosening the tie Blaine didn’t have the chance to get rid off when he came home. Blaine starts pulling Kurt away from the kitchen, barely managing to gasp the words, “bedroom, _now_ ,” against Kurt’s mouth.

“But,” Kurt says breathlessly, nipping at Blaine’s lips, “I was going to make you coffee. From your favorite coffee beans at that.”

“It can wait. Coffee can definitely wait,” Blaine answers, letting out a small triumphant noise when Kurt’s shirt finally comes free and he can push his hands against the warm, soft skin on Kurt’s back and pull him closer. “God, I’ve missed you so much in every. Single. Way,” he whispers, punctuating each of the last three words with a kiss.

Kurt whines into them, pushing his body against Blaine’s. “Y-yeah,” he stammers out, “you’re right, coffee can wait.”

They can’t get to the bedroom fast enough.

 

\---

 

Kurt strokes his hand down Blaine’s naked back, and Blaine snuggles closer to him on the bed, his breath finally starting to run through his lungs at normal speed. He feels warm and content and loved, and he doesn’t even mind the sweat or come drying against his skin, doesn’t mind that he probably has to wash his sheets tomorrow even if he just changed them the other day.

Kurt’s hand finds its way to Blaine’s hair, breaking the last remains of gel from his curls, and yeah, Blaine _really_ doesn’t mind. He’s going to change those sheets tomorrow with the biggest smile on his face.

He starts drawing patterns against Kurt’s stomach, pressing a small dry kiss on his chest. “So where were you all this time?” he asks, looking up at Kurt.

Kurt shuffles down on the bed so that their heads are almost on the same level. “Well, I spent the first month in Cincinnati with Finn,” he starts, “and then the rest of the time I was basically in New Jersey, emptying my regular hide-outs.”

“How was Finn?” Blaine asks, his hand pausing against Kurt’s skin.

Kurt lets out an overwhelmed laugh. “Surprising, to be honest. I was so sure that it was going to be really awkward or he would just turn me away the moment he saw me, but...” His smile softens, and he ducks his head with an overwhelmed expression. “When I walked into the garage he’s working at, he literally hit his head against a car hoist in surprise. And then he...” Kurt pauses, playing with Blaine’s hair. “He instantly pulled me into a hug and told me he’d missed me and been so worried about me.”

Blaine shifts on the bed, resting his chin on Kurt’s chest and feeling the way a smile spreads over his own face. “So he didn’t know you’d been looking for him?”

“No,” Kurt says, shaking his head, “he didn’t. He had no idea that I broke out of prison to find him when he left New York all those months ago. He had just been moving around the States, trying to find work here and there, but he hadn’t... He hadn’t tried looking for me.” Kurt’s forehead creases over. “Not that I blame him. He thought I wanted nothing to do with him, and let’s be honest, Kurt Hummel, con-man extraordinaire, really didn’t want to have anything to do with him.”

Blaine nudges Kurt. “But he was still worried about you.”

“He was, and he was so...” Kurt shakes his head again, almost disbelievingly. “He was so happy to see me again. I spent the month basically living on his couch, catching up on everything that had happened to him since we parted ways, and when I left, we promised to keep in touch from now on and never be that stupid again. We even... We even talked about trying to find dad and Carole again.”

Kurt’s breath hitches in his throat almost unnoticeably, and Blaine shifts closer to him on the bed, kissing his collarbone and stroking his hand over his side. Kurt blinks his eyes quickly for a few minutes, obviously trying to keep himself from crying both happy and sad tears, and Blaine waits patiently, staying close to him and not saying anything until Kurt is ready.

“So why didn’t you stay with him then?” he eventually asks when Kurt’s eyes turn back to look at him. “I would’ve understood if you had.”

Kurt shrugs. “Because it’s not my life. My life is not in Ohio. Now that we’ve made up we can be brothers even if we live in different states. Finn’s happy there -– he was even talking about going back to college and getting that teacher’s degree he’s always dreamed about –- and I could probably live there as well, but it’s...” Kurt scrunches up his nose in thought. “Finn’s the only thing in Cincinnati I care about. We talked about it, and he told me to do what I really want to do. And I want to live in New York.”

“With me?” Blaine adds, smiling up at Kurt.

“With you,” Kurt agrees, smiling back before his smile turns into a grin. “Did you get the reports?”

Blaine laughs, burying his head against Kurt’s chest for a moment. “I did,” he admits. “Nice touch. I especially liked the way you returned that Renoir.”

“Oh, it almost hurt to give that painting up,” Kurt jokes, clutching at his chest in mock-pain and rolling his eyes.

Blaine stops, sobering and glancing up at Kurt. “But you still gave it all up,” he says quietly.

“I did,” Kurt acquiesces. “Because it didn’t matter anymore. I didn’t want them hanging over my head for the rest of my life.” He huffs and then bites his lower lip suddenly, a familiar gesture of excitement that has Blaine lifting his head from Kurt’s chest in curiosity. “Besides,” Kurt continues. “I don’t need them anymore, not even as a back-up. Because I have a job.”

“Kurt!” Blaine exclaims, pushing himself up in surprise. “You have a job? When did this happen? What is it?”

Kurt laughs, reaching out to take Blaine’s hand and stroking his thumb over his knuckles. “Do you remember Isabelle Wright? She called me a few days ago.”

“Yeah, of course,” Blaine says. “We worked with her on that canary diamond case.” Then his eyes widen, and he can feel his heart jumping into his throat. “Are you telling me that...”

“She wants me to write a column for Vogue,” Kurt blurts out, his smile so wide that it practically breaks his face in half. “About fashion and the art world because I know them both so well and Isabelle somehow found out about my release and wanted to offer me the job as soon as possible, and-– Blaine, if they’re happy with my work they might even consider signing up some of my designs and helping me get my name out there as a designer, and they’re thinking about calling the column ‘ _White Collar_ ’ which sounds a bit cheesy to me, to be honest, but-–”

Blaine stops his rambling with a kiss, grabbing Kurt’s face and sealing their lips together so that Kurt gets cut off in the middle of a word. Blaine can’t help himself –- Kurt seems so happy, so genuinely excited that he just has to kiss him, has to show how proud and happy he is. Kurt ’s eyelids flutter closed at the touch, and he sighs into Blaine’s mouth, tilting his head a little to get their lips together in a better angle, his hand rising up to rest lightly on Blaine’s chest, right over his heart.

Blaine breaks the kiss with an audible smack after a while, but Kurt keeps his eyes closed for a moment, licking his lips slowly. Blaine watches as the smile spreads back over Kurt’s face, how it first starts twitching at the corners of his mouth and then pulls them tight over his cheeks, so happy and content and excited.

“... but I guess it’s kind of witty as well,” Kurt breathes out, finishing his sentence and then blinking his eyes open to meet Blaine’s gaze.

Blaine smiles at him, their hands still holding each other between their bodies and Kurt’s other hand playing with Blaine’s chest hair. “I guess you figured out what you want to do, then,” he says.

Kurt laughs, ducking his head with his cheeks flushed. “I guess I did,” he admits, squeezing Blaine’s hand.

“Did you also figure out where you’re going to live?” Blaine asks, tilting his head with a smile. “Because the new tenants in your old loft are not going to give it up without a fight or an elaborate con.”

“You already know I’ve given up on elaborate cons, Agent Anderson,” Kurt replies cheekily. His eyes are twinkling in a way that makes Blaine’s stomach swoop with love. “I was actually thinking that I could move in with my boyfriend,” Kurt continues with a grin, “now that I can actually tell the whole world that he is my boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend –- who by the way loves you very much –- approves of the idea,” Blaine says in a low voice, feeling the goofy smile on his face and leaning in to kiss Kurt again. Just because he can and he wants to.

Kurt laughs into the kiss. “I love you, too. And perhaps...” He leans back a little, his smile turning shy. “Perhaps one day soon I’ll be sharing an apartment with a fiancé instead of a boyfriend?”

Blaine blinks. “But that fiancé is still me?” he asks dumbly, just because he knows it’ll make Kurt laugh again.

Kurt does laugh, ducking his head against Blaine’s chest for a moment before lifting it up again and squeezing Blaine’s hand. “Yes,” he says, “that fiancé is still you. If you want it to be.”

“I do,” Blaine promises, and then lets out a laugh himself, realizing what he just said. “I mean... I’d love that,” he adds softly.

“Good,” Kurt says with a grin. “Because you’re stuck with this con for good.”

Blaine lifts Kurt’s left hand and kisses the knuckle of his ring finger, thinking about that jewelry store he passed by months ago. The timing and the situation are right in every single way now, and perhaps they don’t need an elaborate proposal for this – maybe just this is enough; them being together and promising to be together in the future as well, honest and real.

It’s more than enough.

“Man,” Blaine corrects, glancing up at Kurt through his lashes. “You’re not a con, you’re a man. And I’m happily stuck with this man for good.”

Kurt blinks, something wet shining in his eyes, and then pulls Blaine in for a kiss.

It tastes like forever.


	23. Epilogue

_SIX MONTHS LATER._

Blaine does get that promotion. He becomes one of the youngest agents in the Bureau to ever reach the position of an Assistant Special Agent in Charge and to run the White Collar Division, and it’s... It’s a lot. It’s basically Peterson’s job because Peterson himself moves to an even higher position, something that as far as Blaine knows involves nothing but paperwork and signing permits and sitting behind a mahogany desk.

ASACs aren’t supposed to be that active in the field either, and Peterson hadn’t worked on cases like that for years – but from early on Blaine makes the decision not to give up on the practical side of crime-solving. He likes working in the field, and even if Sam is running his team now, he still likes to be involved in the cases as much as possible. He’s going to be a different ASAC, and so far no one has complained about it.

Still, there are nice perks that come with the promotion – a bigger office with a nicer view, better parking, a chance for more flexible hours, no more derisive comments about his sexuality from the higher-ups because he is one of the higher-ups himself...

And best of all, the access to several top-secret federal databases he couldn’t use when he was just a regular agent.

He sort of brings it up late one night when he’s watching television with Kurt, or at least pretending to watch it. Kurt is going through his latest column for writing mistakes, even if Blaine already told him that it’s perfect and everyone will love it, and Blaine himself has a few case reports on his lap, waiting for his signature and approval.

They’ve been quiet for a long while, just working silently with nothing but Perry’s snoring, the muted voice of the television and the rhythmic tapping of Kurt’s fingers against his laptop keyboard as the background noise. Blaine averts his eyes from the case reports and turns to look at Kurt, feeling a familiar smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. He feels like smiling every time he looks at Kurt; every time he drops Kurt off at the Vogue offices or comes home to find him sketching at the dining room table, every morning when he wakes up and every night he falls asleep, Kurt’s face being the first and last thing he sees every single day.

It’s better than Blaine could’ve ever imagined. It’s more, the way Kurt seems so much more content and himself when he gets to work with something that truly interests him, not just something that he feels like he has to do to keep going. Kurt smiles more, laughs more, talks more – everything about him is more, and Blaine feels almost blinded by him, by all the greatness that had been hiding underneath that con-man exterior for years.

His eyes move from Kurt’s profile to the simple silver ring on his left hand, the one they picked out together five months ago when Kurt officially asked him to marry him, and Blaine can feel his lips turning into a full-blown smile. He has a similar ring on his own finger, except his is a bit darker shade of silver. Kurt thought it would look better against his skin tone, and he was right, obviously.

“You’re staring,” Kurt points out all of a sudden, not looking up from his laptop. There’s a small smile playing on his lips in any case.

“Sorry,” Blaine says sheepishly, moving the reports from his lap to the sofa table. “I... actually had something I wanted to ask you.”

Kurt does look up then, blinking his eyes a few times. “What about?”

“I... Um.” Blaine hesitates. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way or anything –”

“Blaine,” Kurt interrupts, setting his laptop aside. “I know you, and you know me, and we’ve been studying each other for basically over a decade.” He grins at that, his nose scrunching up, and Blaine can’t help but smile back. “So even if we’ve misunderstood each other in the past, I think we’ve been over that stage in our relationship for months now.” He lifts his left hand and wiggles it in the air. “Fiancés, remember?”

Blaine lets out a laugh and reaches out to take Kurt’s hand, stroking his thumb over the ring. “Of course I remember. I just...” He pauses, arranging his words as carefully as he can. “I was wondering if you or Finn have found out anything new about your parents?”

“Oh.” Kurt’s shoulders tense for a quick moment, the previous happiness instantly disappearing from his eyes. He looks down at his lap, starting to fiddle with them hem of his shirt, the way he always does when he’s upset or nervous.

Blaine waits, tightening his hold on Kurt’s hand almost unconsciously.

“We haven’t,” Kurt says quietly after a moment. “I mean, Finn tried asking about them from the police again and we’ve searched as much as we’ve could but it’s... It’s been over ten years,” he says, looking up at Blaine. “We’re not giving up on hope, but ten years is still a long time.”

“I know,” Blaine assures him. “I know. I’m sorry I asked – I was just curious, I suppose.”

Kurt takes a deep, shuddering breath. “It’s okay. I mean, I still hope we’re going to find them one day, and I know Finn feels the same way, but I guess we’re both also starting to accept it as well. Or at least accept the chance that we might not ever get them back.”

Blaine closes the distance between them and pulls Kurt against him, pressing a kiss on his temple. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, but this time he’s not sorry just for asking that question. He’s sorry for everything else as well, for bringing up bad memories and for Kurt having to live through those memories in the first place.

Kurt nods, shivering against him. Blaine can feel him choking back tears, and he knows he has to do something.

He doesn’t do field work the next week, even though his old team – Sam’s team now – is working on a pretty interesting bond forgery case. Instead he spends most of his working hours sitting in his office, browsing through every single database he now has access to, calling in a few favors from other departments and even asking help from a few law enforcement officers he knows outside of the FBI.

It requires a lot of effort, a lot of charming (he learned from the best) and a lot of promises of returned favors, but after almost a week it all finally pays off when he gets through the last obstacle, thanks to a cooperative WITSEC agent who promised to help out an ASAC. If Blaine was just a regular agent, he would’ve never gotten that last favor.

His new position definitely has good perks.

He leaves work early that day, knowing that Kurt is working from their apartment for a few days. When he gets home and closes the front door behind himself, he practically runs into Kurt in the hallway, their chests bumping together. Blaine lets out a yelp, stumbling back in surprise.

“Easy there, tiger,” Kurt laughs, reaching out to pat his shoulders. “You have good timing, I was just about to call you and ask if we should order in Chinese or Indian tonight and... Blaine? Is everything alright?”

Blaine swallows. “I think you should sit down for this,” he says, directing Kurt to their living room. Perry waves her tail in greeting from where she’s lying almost halfway under the sofa table, apparently so comfortable that she doesn’t even bother getting up.

“You’re starting to scare me,” Kurt says, half-jokingly, but then he glances at Blaine’s face and his smile falls away. “Blaine, seriously. What’s going on?”

Blaine guides him to sit on the couch and sits down next to him, placing his messenger bag – a gift from his old team – on his lap. “It’s not... It’s not anything bad, I promise,” he assures Kurt, shrugging out of his jacket. “It’s just surprising. And big.”

“Not exactly helpful,” Kurt points out, narrowing his eyes.

“I know, sorry.” Blaine throws his jacket on the armrest and opens his bag, pulling out a thin case file before he looks at Kurt. He really hopes what he did is okay. “I, um, did some digging, thanks to all this power I now have as an ASAC, and I... I found your parents.”

Kurt doesn’t say anything, just stares at him in confusion.

“Um, they...” Blaine continues, suddenly feeling a lot more nervous. “They’re in Seattle.”

“What?” Kurt whispers, his voice small.

“Seattle,” Blaine repeats, softening his voice. Kurt is still staring at him, disbelieving and almost a little lost, so he explains more. “I found a small hint about them in the WITSEC database, and after I pulled some strings they were willing to tell me that Burt Hummel and Carole Hudson-Hummel have been in the witness protection program for over ten years. Your dad owned a garage, right?”

Kurt nods mutely, something wet shining in his eyes, and Blaine pushes on, even if the whole moment feels incredibly fragile.

“Apparently one of your dad’s regular customers was a big-time drug trafficker who had been hiding in Ohio for years,” Blaine continues. “Your dad was working on his car one day and saw something incriminating – not really sure what, the WITSEC agent refused to give me all the details about the case – but it was enough for your dad to call the police. And the next day, he and your step-mom were taken into protective custody and relocated to Seattle. To keep them safe.”

Kurt blinks, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “What are you... Are you saying that we haven’t been able to find them because...”

“Because no one was supposed to find them,” Blaine finishes gently, reaching out to take Kurt’s hand and lace their fingers together. “And they weren’t allowed to contact you or Finn because that could’ve put you in danger as well. That’s why it looked like they had completely disappeared. But, Kurt, the thing is...” He fumbles to open the file and holds it out in front of Kurt. “The case against that criminal is almost done. After all these years. And in exchange for this information I promised to loan a few of my best agents to work on the case with the other agencies, and your dad has apparently been wreaking havoc to finally get the chance to get in contact with his son again and I...” He smiles reassuringly. “We probably have to wait a few more weeks, but I did get their contact information.”

Kurt’s eyes slide down to the file in front of him. It’s open on a page that has an address and a phone number, along with a few other tidbits of information Blaine managed to get from the WITSEC agent. Kurt blinks slowly, reaching out to take the file, but his hand stops just a few inches from it, trembling nervously.

“Please tell me this is for real,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “Blaine, _please_. Because I can’t...” He trails off, closing his eyes for a moment, a lone tear escaping from the corner of his eyes and rolling down his cheek.

Blaine nudges the file against Kurt’s hand. “It’s for real. I promise. I checked and double-checked and triple-checked everything, and I would never, ever, lie to you about something like this.”

He shifts closer to Kurt on the couch, pointing at the case file when Kurt’s eyes flutter open at the movement. “See, it says here that the case against that criminal is expected to be done by the end of this month – maybe even sooner, now that they have more manpower from the FBI – and then, after the matter is settled, you can get your parents back.” He places his other hand cautiously over Kurt’s, feeling the tremors against his palm. “The case they have is infallible. I checked. There are no what-ifs, not this time.”

“And I can...” Kurt starts, his eyes blinking more rapidly and his breath stuttering in his throat, “I can go see them? I can have them in my life again? This is not some sort of a temporary solution?”

Blaine shakes his head. “No, nothing temporary about it. I promise.” He withdraws his hand and places the file gently on Kurt’s lap. “It’s over now, Kurt. For good. You made it.”

Kurt starts crying in earnest, tears pouring down his face, his shoulders shaking and his cheeks turning blotchy. He keeps staring at the file even though he probably can’t see that much, not with all the tears blurring his vision. His hand is trembling in Blaine’s grasp, but Blaine keeps holding on to it, blinking back his own tears. God, he can’t even imagine how Kurt is feeling, can’t even try to understand what must be going through his mind at this moment.

But he will keep holding on.

“How did you...” Kurt gasps out after a moment, lifting his eyes from the document to Blaine. He stops, taking a few deep breaths before disentangling their hands and wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “I can’t... You just got your promotion and you’re already doing something like this, something that basically goes against the FBI rules and takes time away from your own work, and you did all this for me. Blaine, you already found Finn, you didn’t –”

“Hey, hey, Kurt,” Blaine interrupts, lifting his hand to cup Kurt’s face and looking into his eyes, seeing the tears still pooling in them. “The whole point of being an agent is to help people get closure. That’s what we do. And I’d be a pretty lousy agent if I couldn’t do that for the love of my life, right?” He gives a hesitant smile.

“T-thank you,” Kurt sniffs, smiling back at him and then turning his head to press a small kiss on the inside of Blaine’s wrist. “I just... I just sort of wish I had been the one to find them,” he mumbles. “Don’t get me wrong, but they are my parents, after all.” He looks back up at Blaine. “Is that weird?”

Blaine immediately shakes his head. “No, definitely not weird.” He leans in to brush his lips over Kurt’s. “Besides,” he continues, “in a way you did find them. I would’ve never even looked for them if it wasn’t for you or if you hadn’t told me about them. And you helped me get this promotion in the first place, by helping me clear that impressive conviction rate and by pushing me to be a better agent.” He smiles. “So you did have a role in all this. Absolutely. You just don’t have the same security clearance as I do, so you couldn’t take the last step on your own.”

Kurt captures his lips before he can lean away again. The kiss tastes salty, like tears and desperation, but Blaine can feel Kurt smiling into it, can feel the upward curve of his mouth against his own, and he knows that now, at last, things are okay. Or at least almost okay. When Kurt finally gets to see his dad and step-mom again, that’s when they’ll be completely okay.

Kurt laughs suddenly, breaking the kiss and shaking his head. “I– I have to go call Finn right now,” he says, pushing himself off the couch with a watery smile. “Just... Thank you. I... We can’t thank you enough.”

Blaine smiles back at him and shrugs. “They would’ve contacted you in a month or two anyway. I just sped things up a little.”

“Still,” Kurt insists, standing up next to him. “ _Thank you_.”

Blaine looks up at him, his heart thudding against his chest from all the feelings he has for this brave, beautiful and exceptional man. “I wanted to do it for you,” he says softly. “Because I didn’t just catch you that day in that empty apartment. You caught me as well.”

Kurt smiles, his eyes full of love. “God, you are so cheesy,” he teases quietly, leaning down to kiss Blaine’s lips one more time.

 

\---

 

A few weeks later Blaine stands under an umbrella – because of course it’s raining in Seattle, it’s _Seattle_ – and watches as Burt Hummel and Carole Hudson-Hummel pull their sons in for a desperate hug, all four of them crying and laughing at the same time. Kurt clings to his father, his other hand wrapped around Carole’s neck, and Finn has his face buried in his mother’s shoulder, his fingers fisted in the fabric of Burt’s coat. They are barely under the roof of the porch they’re standing on, but none of them seem to mind the pouring rain.

Blaine has witnessed both happy and unhappy endings during his life, and this is definitely the best he’s ever seen.

He’s not going to interrupt the moment, but after a long while Burt Hummel suddenly lifts his head from his son’s shoulder and meets Blaine’s eyes, his forehead creasing over in confusion.

“Wait, who’s this guy?” he asks, pointing at Blaine, his voice still thick with emotion.

Blaine blinks in surprise before straightening his back and stepping forwards. “Special Agent Blaine Anderson, sir,” he introduces himself, extending his hand to Burt with a polite smile.

Carole and Finn turn to look at him as well, Carole looking politely interested and Finn giving Blaine a smile, even if they are both still obviously overwhelmed from everything, their eyes shining with tears and their hands holding on to each other. Burt himself shakes Blaine’s offered hand, his other hand still wrapped tightly around Kurt.

“Agent?” he repeats, almost a little distrustful. Blaine swallows nervously. His higher-ups have nothing on Burt Hummel's intimidating eyebrow raise. “What are you –”

“Dad,” Kurt laughs, his voice choked and watery. He takes a step away from Burt, reaching out to take Blaine’s hand. “He’s not just some agent, he’s my– Blaine’s my fiancé, dad.” Kurt lifts his left hand to show the ring to Burt and Carole, a breathless smile practically breaking his face in half.

“Fiancé?” Burt exclaims, looking between them in bewilderment.

Kurt lets out a laugh and shrugs, and Blaine just ducks his head with a smile. Not exactly how he imagined meeting his in-laws, but he’ll take it.

“Jesus,” Burt mutters, scratching the back of his neck. “My kid is engaged. And to a G-man at that. How the hell did this happen?” he asks, staring at them both, but Blaine can see the smile playing on his face.

Kurt squeezes Blaine’s hand and grins. “Well, that’s kind of a long story,” he says, “but I suppose we’ve got the time for it.”

 

 

_The End._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endless thank you to Essi, Tiuku, Maya, Karla, Inez and Em for supporting me with this fic. You are the best. ♥ Also, thank you to everyone who has commented, rated or just read my fic, I appreciate it a lot.
> 
> There will still be one-shots for this verse, and if there's something you would like to see, you can send me prompts [via my ask on Tumblr](http://afterthenovels.tumblr.com/ask)! I have three ficlets planned already, but I probably won't get the chance to write them until January. You can track the [#catch me if you can verse tag](http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/catch-me-if-you-can-verse) on Tumblr for future updates, if you want to, and obviously those ficlets will be posted here on AO3 as well.
> 
> Also, the masterpost for this fic can be found [here](http://afterthenovels.tumblr.com/post/54278318505/masterpost-catch-me-if-you-can), and this fic is also on Scarves&Coffee [here](http://scarvesandcoffee.net/viewstory.php?sid=8943&warning=20). 
> 
> Until next time!


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